Post by Corothius Encinosa on Oct 21, 2012 0:51:49 GMT -5
XlXShadowWarrior: - The priest stood in the dark wood starring through the
veil at the remnants of a forgotten burrial ground for several people who had
fought in an old war long ago and lost from history. It was in an area off
the coasts. He had already began a strange chanting in his native tongue ,w
hich caused the soil to move as if something was crawling under the earth.
Blood would reach the surface and begin to fuse with the dirt. Bone and
mummified flesh would rise up with the blood and mud fusing all together creating a
type of blob. He extended his staff out sending a flame from the tip and into
the blob itself causing the mass to harden up into a large pottery looking
sphere. The pottery would starrted releasing a fleshy blobby thickly veined
and slimey looking thing. faces would push out through the blob and hands as
if their were millions of people inside the foul looking thing, along groans
and long moans of pain"dissolve warrior tribe...dissolve and give your souls to
me"- he commanded- " Your souls and fused together within my cocoon of
flesh... sacrifice yourself to me to rebirth the plaque in which caused your
existence to be massacred "_ the fleshy thing began to expand then like a meaty
balloon as if gas or some type of preasure was being build within.->D<
Syados Edge: ‡Off in the distance a boat was already moored near the shore.
Far away enough that an anchor had been tossed over the rail to keep it
slightly adrift upon the shallower waters that it was able to traverse with
ease and be pushed along to return to the open seas when the men using it were
ready to do so. For now though, these men were already drying and making
their way noiselessly through the forests that edged the northern coast in
the bay that the port of Kiel was located in. There was a village farther along this
side of the bay, one that was said to have been founded there quite some time
ago. The full history of these lands were unknown to him and his men. The
woods though, were a trekking area that they were well skilled and proficient in
moving through. Remaining unseen and unheard as they did so, as if hunting
deer or an even more keen animal for food. In the distance, unluckily for
them, the sound of a magi-user was discernable, and with it other sounds began
coming to their ears. Signals were relayed through their number, no more than
2 dozen in truth. Men who were outfitted to not sink in the waters if they
fell overboard, yet were still bearing enough armor in particular locations that
they were trained to use to block and rely upon in defensive positions to
make up for the lack of a complete set of armor in battle. In command of them
was their leader, a Spaniard, like the rest of the men, named Corothius. His hand
was already upon the hilt of the blade of choice that was harnessed upon his
back. A rather long curved blade that was moreso common in the southern parts
of Spain. This was quietly put into the process of being drawn from his back.
One that was nearly like drawing a breath in its noiselessness so it could be
rightly wielded by duo hands.‡
Dance of the Rot: ::While he came from no regal line, nor bore a crown upon
his head, nor sat upon a throne or even collected taxes from the peoples, the
southern lands were his, or so he liked to believe. From the Mountains of
the Dead Mans pass to the Northern Shores of the Badlands he daned his domain.
It was not the march of men upon it that caught his eye, nor was it the
dropping of anchors in the sea. It was the mark of magic that pulled his old
eye from his work. So far away, ancient bones shifted along the glass like
surface of a marble table, glutching up an orb of precious stone. Holding it
close against his clothed ribs, he stared into it with interest as the
clouded jewel started to seporate for him. High above the canopy of trees, clouds
parted to form a rough circle as the Lich looked on from afar.::
XlXShadowWarrior: - He stood their and waited until the moaning and sounds
of pain from within the large fleshy and veining thing had died down and gone
when he finally approached.- he grabbed the top of his staff removing the
relic from the top of it to unsheath the spear hidden under it.- " Go swift go
quuickly spread faster then any germ, cover fast then any winter snow.
Destroy more then a hurricane... rise up rise now! - he then swung the bladed
tip of his staff into the the thing he had created which released a black and green
mist which rose like a sworm of locusts up toward the sky and began to
splread the poison that was worse then a plaque. find the lving and create
with it an army of the dead. sore through the old graves and fallen corpses and create
with them life worthy to srve me and a hunger for flesh of the enemy!"- he
called out finishing his ritual as the mist looked like a giant dark green
cloud which made it's way towards the port of kiel ->D<
Syados Edge: ‡It was no doubt after the mist would leave the ruins of the
ancient graveyard that the men would begin to near the area that the ritual
was taking place in. They had not been in any rush to discover what was
transpiring, but only one of the nefariously quicker of his men had gotten there
first to witness the blob in it's ending state. Leaving the air with a
distinct putrid quality that made him return to the others before he'd allow
himself to begin to vomit. And vomit he did, if only so much kept quiet and stilled by
the strength of his will so that he would not actually be heard doing so and
cause an alarm by the unknown that were ahead of those who began to weave
through the darkness of green plantlife. When they found him, a few
remained at his side to wait till his observance could be explained. The
others formed a line through the treeline, nothing close to each other or
even visible in truth, but the command had been passed with gesticulation and little
noises that creatures of the wild made to halt their progression further
until things could be explained.‡
Dance of the Rot: ::Ignorent of the sailers that spyed upon the spell much
as he had, he was suddenly filled with a great rage as the man spoke, Bone
hand trembled and shook, fingers gripped so tight on the orb that it cracked.
Far to the North, where the gathering was, a sudden, single peel of thunder
would sound out, despite the lack of rains or wind. It was not even followed
by a flash of lightening, only a single crack and lash of thunder to split
the near silence.It was not untill he saw the direction of the cloud did
his wrath settle and hand fall calm. The last thing he wanted after all, was
for the people of the Konigriech to suffer. They payed taxes to the crown,
who payed taxes to him, and a dragons horde is of critical importance, even in
death.::
XlXShadowWarrior: - his ear would perk up as if hearing something and raised
his arm outward as green swirls rose from the deflating blob. you'd think he
use all his special zombie making mist all at once never.. while the mist
began attacking what ever was filled with life. even the dead was not
granted any mercy creepign over graves the mists would cause them to toss and
turn in their graves and rise up from their sleep their bodys smothering with
the green mist which leaked out of them as if their bodies were filled with
nothing but the mist. anyone who wasn't care would be captured by theses
creatures to be given probably the worse experience of a kiss in their life
being forced to drink that horribkle mist causing their eyes to turn white their
flesh to sink in and become zombie fied and filled to the brim with the
mist.. His arm swung out toward the trees causing more swils of the mist
still left in the fleshy thing to shoot straight into them.- Cover this land with death
cover it well I say..">d<
Syados Edge: ‡ The sound of the undead awakening was the first to reach
their awaiting ears. The unknown was finally theirs to recognize and fear. It
was not something a warrior encountered in their everyday trip. It was moreso
a tale of elders and drunks over fires and in taverns for amusement. Yet now, it
sounded like much more than mere tales. Their scout had finally come around
again and warned the others of the mist. It was this that caused the other
men of his crew to draw upon their sashes and bandanas. Weaving them around
their noses and mouths to act as filters to breath through and hope such
would suffice, some were thicker than that which others wore. Yet they for
the better part made the men all the more darkened in appearance. Corothius himself
patted the sickened man on the back for encouragement. Offering him the
silent gesture to wait there for a time further if he needed to. A
gesticulation from his arm sent the others onwards. Tredding through the woods with the same
silence and caution that they were overly practiced in performing out. Weaving from tree to tree, bushel
to bushel with slow assuraing movements that nothing was ahead of them, and
nothing was ahead of them to spy upon in the process. This to be continued
till the graveyard was reached no doubt, a tactical maneuver that if one was
found, there would be another in hiding to come to his aid. A tactic that
would arrive to witness the sight of the uncountable risen and still rising
from the graves beyond. Perhaps a steel or rickety wooden fence marking some of the
lands perimeter, no doubt overgrown with foilage and weeds. yet, the stark
appearance of zombies and skeletons embribed with life via some green mist
that they were warned about was noteworthy..‡
XlXShadowWarrior: now who to strike down first...- he would dissapear and
reappear in the shadows holding the totem mask .- mmmnn... I sense it will be
a blood bath... Totem lend me your will.- he slipped the mask over his face
and he was encased in black flames which soon devoured him completed when
they slered their stood a tall scrawning figure dressed in a tattered black
robe with the mask of the tottoem his hands here hard to see but each figner
had blades embeeded in them even the masks teeth were plade and sharp liek
canines and jabbed making it more painful if they sunk into flesh and bone
the feet of the figure were like a dragon with embeeded blades in the toes.
He would fade into the shadows and wait. When the time was right he let out a
maddening how appearing out of no where to bring the blades on his figners
out at several of the men's backs while gliding bby and fading into the
shadows. just as several hands of the undead shot up and grabbed at those he had just
attacked and tried to pull them into the grave with them.->D<
once they had gotten to the grave yards that is -
Syados Edge: ‡Magic had it's illusions, and some were real. One man
discovered what another man hoped was an illusion, was not as the blade
slipped into the mans' back in that instant after the howl erupted into the
air. It was enough of a warning that only one of Corothius' men would be caught
offguard. Seeing how they had been covering a good length of the woods with
their two dozen in number, the apparent spectre of darkness would liably have
appeared near the end of their formation at one flank or the other. Corothius himself
was near the center as any good commander would be to direct his orders in
both directions as needed. It was the howl that would rupture the queitness
of his line as a man was heard echoing out his deathcry as pain sliced through
flesh. The cloaks upon the mans back was thick enough to ward off the
stronger of storms upon the seas, and it had no doubt lessened the mans pain
if not nearly being severed to the very lungs that were adding to the howls
warnining, or spree of free killing. the next man in line was a good twenty
or thirty feet away and would not be reached unawares of the cause of death
as his reaction to look and be ready to kill was reflexively instantaneous. He instead
leapt out of reach as the spectre apparently came directly towards him.
Something unexpected as he and his others were so well trained in stealth and
remaining unseen, yet were so quickly caught and become prey to this one. His own
blade was unsheathed like the others, ready for a situation like this where
it would rise up to parry the slicing of multiple blades sliding through the
air. The sound of several clickitings of metal against metal sounded. As did
that of two additional men who were nearby enough in the formation to aid
with the sending of throwing blades that were as small as their hands and
whispered through the air with devious speed to sink into the priests frail
appearance of a body. These men were well trained and practiced. Their
dextrous abilities with such blades would be sent with a precision that would
meet the priests throat and sides of its neck.‡
Dance of the Rot: ::Hand rotated the orb of a jewel, his field of vision
shifting from over head to level with that of the average man, looking upon
the scene as if from the other side of the grave yard. The jewel clicked and
chimed like a bag of flint being shaken as the crack mended its self. No words
were offered from between bared teeth as he sat up, pushing his chair out as
he did. Keeping the orb in hand, the robed figure stepped away from the
table and into the center of the room with a slow and steady stride that was
unbroken as he cast his spell with but a drop of his hand, bringing him so
many leagues away and into the grave yard its self, though not on the edges
of the woods where battle was faught, but indeed close enough to be seen. He
bore with him no weapon nor armor, but was covered from head to toe in rich,
lavish robes of white, and folds with a centerpiece of royal purple. About
his shoulders a mantel of golden cloth rested, and around his neck many
jeweles bound in silver and gold hung. A bishop like hat sat upon his head,
tall round and flat upon the top, heavy folds covering the sides of his head
while a simple wrap covered his mouth, leaving only a pair of bright lights
of his eyes, like cherry ingots of iron from a forge, visible. The orb was
rolled back into the great expansive sleave as hands moved to his sides, the
sleaves engulfing themas he strode casually across the freshly disturbed soil,
the cloth dragging on the ground shunning all dirt and debreee.::
XlXShadowWarrior: - He was having a goood time until the bldes found his
throat and sides of his neck. The Totem fell and fell hard on the ground
was it dead who knew it remained layign where it had fallen after it had been
struct by the blades. It was easy... to kill it... almost too easy. When and if
they approach the thing nothing happened but when they reached to turn it
over it's body began to twitch and then deflate like a balloon. all that
remained was the tattered black cape of what ever had been there. As imspection
probably continued the totem would slowly rise up from the soil it's body
made of a black mist with bladed fingers Remaing quite it moved toward one of
the men again grabbing at the nearest one it would be able to grab and glidding
off into the night with him. AS for the undead the creatures that were
working on digging themselves out were now standing in a role of fifteen some
in varieties of stages of decaye from bones in armor to decaying growtess state to
something more fresh with little signs of rot and decaye. while they deal
with your friends I shall have fun of my own..." he spoke to his captive
right after landing not far from the pair of living vs the dead.->d<
_rising as in re-ermerging behind them to surpise and
catch one.-*'
Syados Edge: ‡Corothius himself was unable to see what was going on at the
flank of his crew where one of his men had no doubt just died. It couldn't be
helped truthfully, they were now, without a doubt, against something unhuman
that would kill more of his men until he would withdraw from too many lost, or
claim victory over those that were heard in the short distance infront of
them. The dozen men to his right, and unafflicted had been commanded to move
onwards, and into the graveyard itself. Stealthily they began to move amongst the
shadows that the night allowed them to easily maintain. The headstones would
replace trees as barriers to use for shelter, and to place between themselves
and what would be approached. They in turn drew closer together in these
quarters. One man perhaps to distract a zombie with a hacking slice of a
blade to draw it's attention, whilst a second would come about from another
angle and whop off an arm or decapitate it completely to send the sound of a
thudding head buffering against the earthen floor, or smooshing against the
concrete of their own headstone they'd just arisen from. Only a few of them
began to do so at first, very cautious and of a mind to deal with as many of them
as they could whilst testing their abilities and determine if they were even
able to be killed. Meanwhile the second squad was convering upon the spectre as it
had become an unknown threat that had killed one of their number already. One
of the men had even gone about stabbing his blade into the cloaks remains to
ensure that nothing else was in there, and that afterwards, the cloak would
be of little use as a cloak. It was in that moment that one of the others
nearby would be captured from a similar situation of a shadow appearing
unseen whilst one man watched over the back of another. The spectre even taking a
rash of speed into the air before it could be sliced at or grabbed onto. The
man captured would do what he could to fight his way free...or waiting for an
opportune moment to do the same‡
Dance of the Rot: ::Attention darted to the one barking orders, clearly the
commander of this troup of men. Among the grave yard he did continue to
walk, giving no pause to the scene of battle about him. It was in fact
towards the focal point of the yard he did stalk before taking his post. amongst the
tomb stones, markers, rising undead and the men that defended themselves from
the scourge. Head tilted upwards to the star filled sky, finding beauty in
each of the lights of the heavens, as they could be seen in this clearing.
So potent was he in the arts arcane that he had evolved beyond the need to
speak his spell, or even weave it through the motions of the hand. He simply
thought and produced. Though he was never above showman ship, and often enjoyed
using it, dragons are vain things after all. Hands flew high above his head,
sleaves falling down to his elbows to expose skeletal arms wreathed in
gauntlets of leather and supple cloths of black. He spoke with the voice of
thunder, for he could have been heard above the mightiest gales of the sea.::
"Stay this Madness!" ::He called out, dramatically, bringing attention upon
himself as he threw his arms down, causing a gust of light wind to radiate out
from him. As if compelled by unseen force, the undead were forced to follow
his command, stopping their attacks upon the men and standing still, as if
awaiting further orders from the Lich, their lifeless heads turning to face him.::
XlXShadowWarrior: - He'd pin the man down, that mask looking face starring
down at him while keeping him pinned- Now don't struggle you want to live a
little longer you'll do as told"- just to make sure he stayed put he would
jab his blade fingers into the palms of the other keeping him pinned. The totem
mask would float off that black humanoid mist and soon shift back into the
veiled priest who was kneeling down infront of his prisoner.-" You will
become a special project a symbol as well as a warning.."- He sensed a new engery
and quickly turned to look down upon the battle feild. He watched as the
Zombies would fight with the others. when ever the living sliced off an arm
or a leg it released the strange mist which held the limbs together. When one of
the undead was decapitated though the mist was released and lunged at the
person or persons that had decaptiated the body which it dwelled in. The mist
would attempt to infect living body and turn it into a zombie this how ever was
altered when control was take from him ::" Hmm what's this someone wanting to
take control, and steal the show.. Now this will be interesting. -He raised
his foot then and slammed it down into the gut of his captived pinned to the
ground by the totem's blades which remained since he had extracted them from
his hands before shifting back into mask form and the priest reappeared.-"
Let's see how he controls them shall we?" - he watched a good ways in the
distance it was far enough for saftey but clsoe enough he could see what was
going on while his foot rubbed the stomach of his captor after he brutally
slammed into it a few minutes ago jsut enought to knock the air out of him for a
few seconds.->D<
Syados Edge: ‡Such an effort upon the mans' gut would be needed to silence
him. Because when the blades were sent into his pinned palms, well, the man
starkly declared their location to his brethren in arms with a hollar that
broke the otherwise silent surroundings by means of an echo that reverbrated
against trees till the stones of the graves were met and perhaps gave reason
for the undead to return to their graves. nonetheless, when the boot to gut
was given, he'd be out of air to scream in pain any longer and would be forced
into a position to squirm and expunge the boot from his gut. Muscles to be
wrenched and he'd even pull his thighs upwards whilst the priest was looking
onwards into the battle starting beyond. The erect leg of the preist would be
kneed against by the man's own with intent to dislodge the priests stance.
Enough force was exuming through the man from the rush of pain sifting
through his palms, more than enough reason to find a way to get himself free. And the
one responsible for the infliction of such pain still readily in the mans'
grasp, of his legs at least. There would then be an attempt to maneuver his
legs about the one his gut to twist, embrace and if not snap the frailer beings
leg into a broken length of whatever the priest was made of, then to at least
use it as a means to get the priest off and cause some blows. Perhaps even a
leg might be sent even further upwards in a flail of a kick to hammer
against any body parts accessable above. These men were quite agile.
Elsewhere, Corothius took notice of the robed apparition of a skeletal being.
It wasn't something he wanted to believe, or even face without knowing what it was.
For all he could tell, it was just another of the walking dead who had risen
from the field, and had died in greater splendor of clothing. His men
meanwhile had discovered their first decapitation as a means to send the rotten corpses
back onto the ground. "OFf WITH THEIR HEADS!" Rose up amongst roaring
throats, echoed off amongst the pillars of stone and broken statues that
guarded now abandoned graves. The mists that were released in the first attempted few
would have difficulty penetrating the man's mask. For he was also aware of
the sickening state that the very first man had been afflicted with from
breathing it in, and wanted nothing of it, he in turn found himself perhaps being
chased after by the mist when he'd fall back, and test how quickly it would
pursue him.‡
Dance of the Rot: ::While the priest demanded hostility and aggression,
their new controler demanded placidness, and while he could garner no control
over the mist that filled them, the vessels themselves put up no fight. In
fact quite the opposite, they fell to their knees, back hunched and heads hung as
if accepting and awaiting the decapitation of a swift blade or axe. The mist
was noted and taken into account, and with a simple clench of his fist under
the sleave, winds started to pick up around him, circling and lifting,
growing stronger and wider, howling as he created a cyclone about himself
that was quickly growing outwards. His robes danced and snapped about,
buffeted by the strong winds. They were not enough to lift a man, though enough to
hinder smooth movement and, if this essence behaved like many other gases,
swirl about and lift before being hurled into the air above and outside the
cyclone of air, where it would have difficulty taking foot hold once more. Leaves,
blades of grass and loose dirt whipped about with gale force winds in the
high fourties of miles per hour. Even severed arms and heads were picked up.
Tomb stones shuttered and shook, threatening to dislodge themselves as
the robed figure strode though the storm, towering a full head and shoulders
over even the tallest of men, though as lean as a body dead from stravation.
The bright ingots that were his eyes had brightened and fixated upon the
commander of the men.::
XlXShadowWarrior: What wonderful screams I know a dead man who would like to
see them...I'll have to let him watch or aid me in my own project.- He said
while he continued rubbing that foot against the other's stomach. He would
turn to look at him admiring his captive then noticved he was doing somethign
with his elgs that was when he leapt away to avoid the man's little attempt
to grab his elgs with his own and break his own.- feisty"- he said swinging
his staff out allowing the bottom of hit to slam straign down at the man's knee
cap possibly hard enough to shatter it.-" I warned you if you behave you'll
live longer..."- he swung his staff again toward the man's other knee cap.
hopeping busting hopefully* busting that one as well. He shivered lightly
enjoying the man's screams it actually gave him chills of pleasure.-
Foolish... There's someone who has taken control of my toys... you should be
more worried if he will be sending them our way.... I advise you to behave or i'll
just have to start my project here... so sad though it would be fast work and
less entertaining.. my friend's friend would be upset he never got a chance
to see such lungs that give you the abilitiy to scream so beautifully..."-
He turned from him and floated lightly in the air a few inches from his
prisoner incase his legs seem to have some type of strengh with busted knee
caps.-" let's see what happens and we'll see how to precede?>d<
Syados Edge: ‡In truth, Corothius and his men wore similar garb. Roman
attire to a certain likeness. Pteruges for isntance hung from their
accouterment laiden belts to hang over there thighs like skirts. Whilst
beneath them were boots shod with linking steel plates for defense as well as other uses in
combat and formality. There were times they would don breastplates and such
suitable armor, but were not donning any torso armor now. Their cloaks though
were bellowing about them, as were the leather straps that hung from belts, amidst
the darkness that concealed much, but were still seen as the lights from the
skies above were all that were needed to do a nightly task. Nonetheless, the
two men who were near to falling victim to the green mist and had been
retreating into the forests found them releived of the gaseous substance when
the winds began to stir suddenly, and moments following did much more than
draw at the air they breathed in. Men began to have difficulties speaking over one
another to fall join the others in falling back as the lich made himself
identifiable amongst all the other standing undead. The gale of winds were
another directive that drew even Corothius' attention directly to their momentary
savior. Or would these winds become their destruction. One or two of his men
continued to cling upon a statue, and one upon a stone engraved cross to
await the winds to grow stronger. Yet they seemed strong enough to serve the purpose at
hand. At 30 degrees one could be blown off of ones feet to a small degree. At
40 you would have to be a seafaring man adapt at balancing yourself on deck
to walk. These were those very men who had a ship to return to, the more arms
to oar it the better. The handful of his men retreated from the graveyard
earnestly enough until the nearby trees were again reached and branches and
trunks put to use to evade the winds and cling to whilst threading their way out
of sight. Corothius meanwhile would remain for a moment further to identify
just who the lich was, or perhaps listening to the sounds of one of his men
in the far distance suffering from some incentive of unknown pain. With a
regret that the man could not be saved he fell back into the shadows as well.
The edges of his persona darkening with his surroundings as he'd take his
leave as well. Their blades had been bloodied, and powers stronger than their
own had been introduced to them. Meanwhile, the captive mans knees had been
smashed against. Boots that rose up over each knee with steel encasings still
received the impact. What leather padding was worn beneath was perhaps not
enough to cushion what strength the captor secretly endowed beneath it's
scrawny appearance. His mind would soon curdle to the electric shocks that
were drawing through his hands still, and the puddles of darkened blood beneath each
palm where blades were embedded in the ground. A last means of thought was
drawn as the sound of his crew were heard calling for their retreat in the
far distance, barely able to be heard over the uproar of the winds. Twas as
the priest rose up into the air to look upon the ongoings that the man would
gather his strength, and will, and struggle to lunge his throat towards one
of his hands. The blade was a quick end to his own life, one that would slice
through his own throat to spew forth that splash of jugulars rush of blood to
his brain and leave him a dead corpse in a matter of a draining moment
following.‡
Dance of the Rot: ::A lithe arm stretched out, followed by a boney finger
that laid to rest pointing at the captain, as if signaling him, calling him
out and marking him. The winds did not die down, but they did not follow him
either, and as they fell back, he gave chase. Strides became longer, his gait
quicker and more pressed as he decended upon them with great urgency. The
undead that were not slain made attempts to return themselves to their
graves, seaking shelter from the wind one by one as their animation was forced
from them and the husks fell still once more. The further the figure strode
from the focal point of the storm, the less his robes flew about and the
weaker the winds became untill his ghastly voice could be heard above the call of
the winds.:: "Stand your ground, you will have words with me, this I
command!" ::He spoke with a voice that was used to giving commands and never
taking them, as if he had been born into authority. His hand fell to his side once
again as he stopped ten paces from the tree line, the storm behind him dieing as quickly as it had become born.:: "What buisness takes you to my shores, and who dares awaken my fallen from their eternal
slumber?"
XlXShadowWarrior: Your friends know our will look at them scattered it's
almsot as if.- he would sense something and turn back just in time to see the
man take his own life.- He soon landed on the ground and knelt down infront
of the corpse.- " Oh no we can't have you dying that easily... thankfulyl you'll
be weak so i can remove the bindments.-:: he gripped the blades ripping them
out of the dead man's palms. He then placed his hand on the neck wound and
began to concitintrait . The air began to grow cold around the two as a mist
began to form. the priest looked up and there he saw it, the man's ghost orb.
Extending his staff out he would say a small chant and something shot out
from the staff to catch the soul and pull it back into the body. That was when the
priest quickly went to work healing his captive, something he normally did
either to prevent his toys from dying or just to tear them up all over again.
He'd smirk under that veil soon as the man regained his color'
Welcome back.... He would snap his fingers and the two would appear in a
black sphere and dissappear only to reappear far from the area in a cave.
there he Had his friend by the throat slamming him against the wall. before he slid
off of it red lights would appear and bind the man's wrists and ankles and
neck to the wall.- "hmph.. you thought you could get away that easy... how
noble." My little fun was ruined by another person who stole my toys... least I
managed to take one... now let see what secrets are louge in that skull of
yours.- the oriest reached out and grabbed the man's skull and began to
concintrait while he searched hsi mind for knowledge, knowledge about himself, knowledge
about thsoe who were with him knowledge about their comander, their base
where their taking sheltor for the moment, anything he thought would be
useful or needed he would rape the others mind by invadeing it just to get what he
wanted.->D<
Syados Edge: ‡It was a scare in itself, having a skeletal figure of such a
sort, wielding magic, and pointing directly at you. It was enough to stricken
you with fear at first. To await some spell to cast you on the earth as dead.
But it didn't happen. Instead, Corothius continued to back away, perhaps
stalling for his men to fall behind him and enter the woods to become the
unseen once more, much like the undead who had been walking moments priorly.
It was as the winds died down, and the lich came to the edge of the woods
themselves that Corothius perhaps made the decision to loiter about for a
short time afterwards. He had never heard a skeleton speak before, nor was he
sure if it was the best idea to attempt to sneak away and hope that it's next spell
wouldn't cause the death of him and his crew more than it already was known
capable of doing. He thus shouted out from the darkness of the woods. The
darkness that concealed with ease any who were within the overtures of
branches and bushesa like. Treebases making an easy length of a wall that
concealed those passing beyond their limit of view. -"....Whoever it was, it
was not us. I have lost one of my men, he will be returned for. As for why we are
here....that....how shall we say...What is in lands unknown is one mans' way
of becoming more of a man...and a soemtimes..a richer one..though here...I
think we may become dead men..". Elsewhere, where the captive would come to life,
blood would gurgle its way through a healed throat as breath was fought for
when life was returned. The feint amount of effort able to be used was used
merely to breathe.and breathe alone...it seemed it would take some time to have
his blood begin to flow throughout his body again...‡
Dance of the Rot: ::If their was any immotion, it was impossible to tell
through his face or eyes, for there was really none left. Instead it was his
voice which one must listen to, and listen well he should, for he gave
critical advice.:: "Follow the shore West as the crow flies, round the Horn to the
South and follow the shore until you reach the Capital City. If you seek
riches, that is where you will find them. If you seek death, venture else
where in these inhospitable lands. I will watch over your journey should you follow
it, and I shall make sure no harm falls upon you again. The Konigriech needs
more trade. Go, make ready your ship. Your dead is lost to you for now. I
shall return him in due time if you follow my guide."
XlXShadowWarrior: hmmnn.. How unfortunate I'll have to wait... that's no
problem... int he mean time let's see what toem doing shall we- and eh turned
to face two glowing orbs on the other side of the wall. these orbs ahd
purpsoe they were his extra eyes and what gave himt hese extra eyes.. well it was the
mask that was watching from a distance like a trained spy at the undead man
and those who were with him who were fighting his toys until the dead man
changed all that and ruined his entetrainment. He'd have betetr fun with his
captive when eh reached an unfortunate full recovery. for now he'd watch and
spy through the eye spheres which were linked to the eye holes of his mask
that watched and listened.->D<
Syados Edge: ‡It would be a decision he would have to think upon. An
invitation to obtain aid from that which was known in tales and child stories
as one of evil creation and purpose. It was also completely unholy if one
were to speak to a priest about it upon his return to a cathedral. He remained
silent to the invitation, and slipped further into the darkness of the woods.
If a guide would be provided to provide them such assurance than they would
be watched over, and whether or not they would follow the coast further would be
proven. It was a choice, that or head north for the Port of Kiel. A choice he
would have another few hours to decide upon whilst upon the waters, with his
crew that wasstill alive and awaiting him again within their ranks.-‡
veil at the remnants of a forgotten burrial ground for several people who had
fought in an old war long ago and lost from history. It was in an area off
the coasts. He had already began a strange chanting in his native tongue ,w
hich caused the soil to move as if something was crawling under the earth.
Blood would reach the surface and begin to fuse with the dirt. Bone and
mummified flesh would rise up with the blood and mud fusing all together creating a
type of blob. He extended his staff out sending a flame from the tip and into
the blob itself causing the mass to harden up into a large pottery looking
sphere. The pottery would starrted releasing a fleshy blobby thickly veined
and slimey looking thing. faces would push out through the blob and hands as
if their were millions of people inside the foul looking thing, along groans
and long moans of pain"dissolve warrior tribe...dissolve and give your souls to
me"- he commanded- " Your souls and fused together within my cocoon of
flesh... sacrifice yourself to me to rebirth the plaque in which caused your
existence to be massacred "_ the fleshy thing began to expand then like a meaty
balloon as if gas or some type of preasure was being build within.->D<
Syados Edge: ‡Off in the distance a boat was already moored near the shore.
Far away enough that an anchor had been tossed over the rail to keep it
slightly adrift upon the shallower waters that it was able to traverse with
ease and be pushed along to return to the open seas when the men using it were
ready to do so. For now though, these men were already drying and making
their way noiselessly through the forests that edged the northern coast in
the bay that the port of Kiel was located in. There was a village farther along this
side of the bay, one that was said to have been founded there quite some time
ago. The full history of these lands were unknown to him and his men. The
woods though, were a trekking area that they were well skilled and proficient in
moving through. Remaining unseen and unheard as they did so, as if hunting
deer or an even more keen animal for food. In the distance, unluckily for
them, the sound of a magi-user was discernable, and with it other sounds began
coming to their ears. Signals were relayed through their number, no more than
2 dozen in truth. Men who were outfitted to not sink in the waters if they
fell overboard, yet were still bearing enough armor in particular locations that
they were trained to use to block and rely upon in defensive positions to
make up for the lack of a complete set of armor in battle. In command of them
was their leader, a Spaniard, like the rest of the men, named Corothius. His hand
was already upon the hilt of the blade of choice that was harnessed upon his
back. A rather long curved blade that was moreso common in the southern parts
of Spain. This was quietly put into the process of being drawn from his back.
One that was nearly like drawing a breath in its noiselessness so it could be
rightly wielded by duo hands.‡
Dance of the Rot: ::While he came from no regal line, nor bore a crown upon
his head, nor sat upon a throne or even collected taxes from the peoples, the
southern lands were his, or so he liked to believe. From the Mountains of
the Dead Mans pass to the Northern Shores of the Badlands he daned his domain.
It was not the march of men upon it that caught his eye, nor was it the
dropping of anchors in the sea. It was the mark of magic that pulled his old
eye from his work. So far away, ancient bones shifted along the glass like
surface of a marble table, glutching up an orb of precious stone. Holding it
close against his clothed ribs, he stared into it with interest as the
clouded jewel started to seporate for him. High above the canopy of trees, clouds
parted to form a rough circle as the Lich looked on from afar.::
XlXShadowWarrior: - He stood their and waited until the moaning and sounds
of pain from within the large fleshy and veining thing had died down and gone
when he finally approached.- he grabbed the top of his staff removing the
relic from the top of it to unsheath the spear hidden under it.- " Go swift go
quuickly spread faster then any germ, cover fast then any winter snow.
Destroy more then a hurricane... rise up rise now! - he then swung the bladed
tip of his staff into the the thing he had created which released a black and green
mist which rose like a sworm of locusts up toward the sky and began to
splread the poison that was worse then a plaque. find the lving and create
with it an army of the dead. sore through the old graves and fallen corpses and create
with them life worthy to srve me and a hunger for flesh of the enemy!"- he
called out finishing his ritual as the mist looked like a giant dark green
cloud which made it's way towards the port of kiel ->D<
Syados Edge: ‡It was no doubt after the mist would leave the ruins of the
ancient graveyard that the men would begin to near the area that the ritual
was taking place in. They had not been in any rush to discover what was
transpiring, but only one of the nefariously quicker of his men had gotten there
first to witness the blob in it's ending state. Leaving the air with a
distinct putrid quality that made him return to the others before he'd allow
himself to begin to vomit. And vomit he did, if only so much kept quiet and stilled by
the strength of his will so that he would not actually be heard doing so and
cause an alarm by the unknown that were ahead of those who began to weave
through the darkness of green plantlife. When they found him, a few
remained at his side to wait till his observance could be explained. The
others formed a line through the treeline, nothing close to each other or
even visible in truth, but the command had been passed with gesticulation and little
noises that creatures of the wild made to halt their progression further
until things could be explained.‡
Dance of the Rot: ::Ignorent of the sailers that spyed upon the spell much
as he had, he was suddenly filled with a great rage as the man spoke, Bone
hand trembled and shook, fingers gripped so tight on the orb that it cracked.
Far to the North, where the gathering was, a sudden, single peel of thunder
would sound out, despite the lack of rains or wind. It was not even followed
by a flash of lightening, only a single crack and lash of thunder to split
the near silence.It was not untill he saw the direction of the cloud did
his wrath settle and hand fall calm. The last thing he wanted after all, was
for the people of the Konigriech to suffer. They payed taxes to the crown,
who payed taxes to him, and a dragons horde is of critical importance, even in
death.::
XlXShadowWarrior: - his ear would perk up as if hearing something and raised
his arm outward as green swirls rose from the deflating blob. you'd think he
use all his special zombie making mist all at once never.. while the mist
began attacking what ever was filled with life. even the dead was not
granted any mercy creepign over graves the mists would cause them to toss and
turn in their graves and rise up from their sleep their bodys smothering with
the green mist which leaked out of them as if their bodies were filled with
nothing but the mist. anyone who wasn't care would be captured by theses
creatures to be given probably the worse experience of a kiss in their life
being forced to drink that horribkle mist causing their eyes to turn white their
flesh to sink in and become zombie fied and filled to the brim with the
mist.. His arm swung out toward the trees causing more swils of the mist
still left in the fleshy thing to shoot straight into them.- Cover this land with death
cover it well I say..">d<
Syados Edge: ‡ The sound of the undead awakening was the first to reach
their awaiting ears. The unknown was finally theirs to recognize and fear. It
was not something a warrior encountered in their everyday trip. It was moreso
a tale of elders and drunks over fires and in taverns for amusement. Yet now, it
sounded like much more than mere tales. Their scout had finally come around
again and warned the others of the mist. It was this that caused the other
men of his crew to draw upon their sashes and bandanas. Weaving them around
their noses and mouths to act as filters to breath through and hope such
would suffice, some were thicker than that which others wore. Yet they for
the better part made the men all the more darkened in appearance. Corothius himself
patted the sickened man on the back for encouragement. Offering him the
silent gesture to wait there for a time further if he needed to. A
gesticulation from his arm sent the others onwards. Tredding through the woods with the same
silence and caution that they were overly practiced in performing out. Weaving from tree to tree, bushel
to bushel with slow assuraing movements that nothing was ahead of them, and
nothing was ahead of them to spy upon in the process. This to be continued
till the graveyard was reached no doubt, a tactical maneuver that if one was
found, there would be another in hiding to come to his aid. A tactic that
would arrive to witness the sight of the uncountable risen and still rising
from the graves beyond. Perhaps a steel or rickety wooden fence marking some of the
lands perimeter, no doubt overgrown with foilage and weeds. yet, the stark
appearance of zombies and skeletons embribed with life via some green mist
that they were warned about was noteworthy..‡
XlXShadowWarrior: now who to strike down first...- he would dissapear and
reappear in the shadows holding the totem mask .- mmmnn... I sense it will be
a blood bath... Totem lend me your will.- he slipped the mask over his face
and he was encased in black flames which soon devoured him completed when
they slered their stood a tall scrawning figure dressed in a tattered black
robe with the mask of the tottoem his hands here hard to see but each figner
had blades embeeded in them even the masks teeth were plade and sharp liek
canines and jabbed making it more painful if they sunk into flesh and bone
the feet of the figure were like a dragon with embeeded blades in the toes.
He would fade into the shadows and wait. When the time was right he let out a
maddening how appearing out of no where to bring the blades on his figners
out at several of the men's backs while gliding bby and fading into the
shadows. just as several hands of the undead shot up and grabbed at those he had just
attacked and tried to pull them into the grave with them.->D<
once they had gotten to the grave yards that is -
Syados Edge: ‡Magic had it's illusions, and some were real. One man
discovered what another man hoped was an illusion, was not as the blade
slipped into the mans' back in that instant after the howl erupted into the
air. It was enough of a warning that only one of Corothius' men would be caught
offguard. Seeing how they had been covering a good length of the woods with
their two dozen in number, the apparent spectre of darkness would liably have
appeared near the end of their formation at one flank or the other. Corothius himself
was near the center as any good commander would be to direct his orders in
both directions as needed. It was the howl that would rupture the queitness
of his line as a man was heard echoing out his deathcry as pain sliced through
flesh. The cloaks upon the mans back was thick enough to ward off the
stronger of storms upon the seas, and it had no doubt lessened the mans pain
if not nearly being severed to the very lungs that were adding to the howls
warnining, or spree of free killing. the next man in line was a good twenty
or thirty feet away and would not be reached unawares of the cause of death
as his reaction to look and be ready to kill was reflexively instantaneous. He instead
leapt out of reach as the spectre apparently came directly towards him.
Something unexpected as he and his others were so well trained in stealth and
remaining unseen, yet were so quickly caught and become prey to this one. His own
blade was unsheathed like the others, ready for a situation like this where
it would rise up to parry the slicing of multiple blades sliding through the
air. The sound of several clickitings of metal against metal sounded. As did
that of two additional men who were nearby enough in the formation to aid
with the sending of throwing blades that were as small as their hands and
whispered through the air with devious speed to sink into the priests frail
appearance of a body. These men were well trained and practiced. Their
dextrous abilities with such blades would be sent with a precision that would
meet the priests throat and sides of its neck.‡
Dance of the Rot: ::Hand rotated the orb of a jewel, his field of vision
shifting from over head to level with that of the average man, looking upon
the scene as if from the other side of the grave yard. The jewel clicked and
chimed like a bag of flint being shaken as the crack mended its self. No words
were offered from between bared teeth as he sat up, pushing his chair out as
he did. Keeping the orb in hand, the robed figure stepped away from the
table and into the center of the room with a slow and steady stride that was
unbroken as he cast his spell with but a drop of his hand, bringing him so
many leagues away and into the grave yard its self, though not on the edges
of the woods where battle was faught, but indeed close enough to be seen. He
bore with him no weapon nor armor, but was covered from head to toe in rich,
lavish robes of white, and folds with a centerpiece of royal purple. About
his shoulders a mantel of golden cloth rested, and around his neck many
jeweles bound in silver and gold hung. A bishop like hat sat upon his head,
tall round and flat upon the top, heavy folds covering the sides of his head
while a simple wrap covered his mouth, leaving only a pair of bright lights
of his eyes, like cherry ingots of iron from a forge, visible. The orb was
rolled back into the great expansive sleave as hands moved to his sides, the
sleaves engulfing themas he strode casually across the freshly disturbed soil,
the cloth dragging on the ground shunning all dirt and debreee.::
XlXShadowWarrior: - He was having a goood time until the bldes found his
throat and sides of his neck. The Totem fell and fell hard on the ground
was it dead who knew it remained layign where it had fallen after it had been
struct by the blades. It was easy... to kill it... almost too easy. When and if
they approach the thing nothing happened but when they reached to turn it
over it's body began to twitch and then deflate like a balloon. all that
remained was the tattered black cape of what ever had been there. As imspection
probably continued the totem would slowly rise up from the soil it's body
made of a black mist with bladed fingers Remaing quite it moved toward one of
the men again grabbing at the nearest one it would be able to grab and glidding
off into the night with him. AS for the undead the creatures that were
working on digging themselves out were now standing in a role of fifteen some
in varieties of stages of decaye from bones in armor to decaying growtess state to
something more fresh with little signs of rot and decaye. while they deal
with your friends I shall have fun of my own..." he spoke to his captive
right after landing not far from the pair of living vs the dead.->d<
_rising as in re-ermerging behind them to surpise and
catch one.-*'
Syados Edge: ‡Corothius himself was unable to see what was going on at the
flank of his crew where one of his men had no doubt just died. It couldn't be
helped truthfully, they were now, without a doubt, against something unhuman
that would kill more of his men until he would withdraw from too many lost, or
claim victory over those that were heard in the short distance infront of
them. The dozen men to his right, and unafflicted had been commanded to move
onwards, and into the graveyard itself. Stealthily they began to move amongst the
shadows that the night allowed them to easily maintain. The headstones would
replace trees as barriers to use for shelter, and to place between themselves
and what would be approached. They in turn drew closer together in these
quarters. One man perhaps to distract a zombie with a hacking slice of a
blade to draw it's attention, whilst a second would come about from another
angle and whop off an arm or decapitate it completely to send the sound of a
thudding head buffering against the earthen floor, or smooshing against the
concrete of their own headstone they'd just arisen from. Only a few of them
began to do so at first, very cautious and of a mind to deal with as many of them
as they could whilst testing their abilities and determine if they were even
able to be killed. Meanwhile the second squad was convering upon the spectre as it
had become an unknown threat that had killed one of their number already. One
of the men had even gone about stabbing his blade into the cloaks remains to
ensure that nothing else was in there, and that afterwards, the cloak would
be of little use as a cloak. It was in that moment that one of the others
nearby would be captured from a similar situation of a shadow appearing
unseen whilst one man watched over the back of another. The spectre even taking a
rash of speed into the air before it could be sliced at or grabbed onto. The
man captured would do what he could to fight his way free...or waiting for an
opportune moment to do the same‡
Dance of the Rot: ::Attention darted to the one barking orders, clearly the
commander of this troup of men. Among the grave yard he did continue to
walk, giving no pause to the scene of battle about him. It was in fact
towards the focal point of the yard he did stalk before taking his post. amongst the
tomb stones, markers, rising undead and the men that defended themselves from
the scourge. Head tilted upwards to the star filled sky, finding beauty in
each of the lights of the heavens, as they could be seen in this clearing.
So potent was he in the arts arcane that he had evolved beyond the need to
speak his spell, or even weave it through the motions of the hand. He simply
thought and produced. Though he was never above showman ship, and often enjoyed
using it, dragons are vain things after all. Hands flew high above his head,
sleaves falling down to his elbows to expose skeletal arms wreathed in
gauntlets of leather and supple cloths of black. He spoke with the voice of
thunder, for he could have been heard above the mightiest gales of the sea.::
"Stay this Madness!" ::He called out, dramatically, bringing attention upon
himself as he threw his arms down, causing a gust of light wind to radiate out
from him. As if compelled by unseen force, the undead were forced to follow
his command, stopping their attacks upon the men and standing still, as if
awaiting further orders from the Lich, their lifeless heads turning to face him.::
XlXShadowWarrior: - He'd pin the man down, that mask looking face starring
down at him while keeping him pinned- Now don't struggle you want to live a
little longer you'll do as told"- just to make sure he stayed put he would
jab his blade fingers into the palms of the other keeping him pinned. The totem
mask would float off that black humanoid mist and soon shift back into the
veiled priest who was kneeling down infront of his prisoner.-" You will
become a special project a symbol as well as a warning.."- He sensed a new engery
and quickly turned to look down upon the battle feild. He watched as the
Zombies would fight with the others. when ever the living sliced off an arm
or a leg it released the strange mist which held the limbs together. When one of
the undead was decapitated though the mist was released and lunged at the
person or persons that had decaptiated the body which it dwelled in. The mist
would attempt to infect living body and turn it into a zombie this how ever was
altered when control was take from him ::" Hmm what's this someone wanting to
take control, and steal the show.. Now this will be interesting. -He raised
his foot then and slammed it down into the gut of his captived pinned to the
ground by the totem's blades which remained since he had extracted them from
his hands before shifting back into mask form and the priest reappeared.-"
Let's see how he controls them shall we?" - he watched a good ways in the
distance it was far enough for saftey but clsoe enough he could see what was
going on while his foot rubbed the stomach of his captor after he brutally
slammed into it a few minutes ago jsut enought to knock the air out of him for a
few seconds.->D<
Syados Edge: ‡Such an effort upon the mans' gut would be needed to silence
him. Because when the blades were sent into his pinned palms, well, the man
starkly declared their location to his brethren in arms with a hollar that
broke the otherwise silent surroundings by means of an echo that reverbrated
against trees till the stones of the graves were met and perhaps gave reason
for the undead to return to their graves. nonetheless, when the boot to gut
was given, he'd be out of air to scream in pain any longer and would be forced
into a position to squirm and expunge the boot from his gut. Muscles to be
wrenched and he'd even pull his thighs upwards whilst the priest was looking
onwards into the battle starting beyond. The erect leg of the preist would be
kneed against by the man's own with intent to dislodge the priests stance.
Enough force was exuming through the man from the rush of pain sifting
through his palms, more than enough reason to find a way to get himself free. And the
one responsible for the infliction of such pain still readily in the mans'
grasp, of his legs at least. There would then be an attempt to maneuver his
legs about the one his gut to twist, embrace and if not snap the frailer beings
leg into a broken length of whatever the priest was made of, then to at least
use it as a means to get the priest off and cause some blows. Perhaps even a
leg might be sent even further upwards in a flail of a kick to hammer
against any body parts accessable above. These men were quite agile.
Elsewhere, Corothius took notice of the robed apparition of a skeletal being.
It wasn't something he wanted to believe, or even face without knowing what it was.
For all he could tell, it was just another of the walking dead who had risen
from the field, and had died in greater splendor of clothing. His men
meanwhile had discovered their first decapitation as a means to send the rotten corpses
back onto the ground. "OFf WITH THEIR HEADS!" Rose up amongst roaring
throats, echoed off amongst the pillars of stone and broken statues that
guarded now abandoned graves. The mists that were released in the first attempted few
would have difficulty penetrating the man's mask. For he was also aware of
the sickening state that the very first man had been afflicted with from
breathing it in, and wanted nothing of it, he in turn found himself perhaps being
chased after by the mist when he'd fall back, and test how quickly it would
pursue him.‡
Dance of the Rot: ::While the priest demanded hostility and aggression,
their new controler demanded placidness, and while he could garner no control
over the mist that filled them, the vessels themselves put up no fight. In
fact quite the opposite, they fell to their knees, back hunched and heads hung as
if accepting and awaiting the decapitation of a swift blade or axe. The mist
was noted and taken into account, and with a simple clench of his fist under
the sleave, winds started to pick up around him, circling and lifting,
growing stronger and wider, howling as he created a cyclone about himself
that was quickly growing outwards. His robes danced and snapped about,
buffeted by the strong winds. They were not enough to lift a man, though enough to
hinder smooth movement and, if this essence behaved like many other gases,
swirl about and lift before being hurled into the air above and outside the
cyclone of air, where it would have difficulty taking foot hold once more. Leaves,
blades of grass and loose dirt whipped about with gale force winds in the
high fourties of miles per hour. Even severed arms and heads were picked up.
Tomb stones shuttered and shook, threatening to dislodge themselves as
the robed figure strode though the storm, towering a full head and shoulders
over even the tallest of men, though as lean as a body dead from stravation.
The bright ingots that were his eyes had brightened and fixated upon the
commander of the men.::
XlXShadowWarrior: What wonderful screams I know a dead man who would like to
see them...I'll have to let him watch or aid me in my own project.- He said
while he continued rubbing that foot against the other's stomach. He would
turn to look at him admiring his captive then noticved he was doing somethign
with his elgs that was when he leapt away to avoid the man's little attempt
to grab his elgs with his own and break his own.- feisty"- he said swinging
his staff out allowing the bottom of hit to slam straign down at the man's knee
cap possibly hard enough to shatter it.-" I warned you if you behave you'll
live longer..."- he swung his staff again toward the man's other knee cap.
hopeping busting hopefully* busting that one as well. He shivered lightly
enjoying the man's screams it actually gave him chills of pleasure.-
Foolish... There's someone who has taken control of my toys... you should be
more worried if he will be sending them our way.... I advise you to behave or i'll
just have to start my project here... so sad though it would be fast work and
less entertaining.. my friend's friend would be upset he never got a chance
to see such lungs that give you the abilitiy to scream so beautifully..."-
He turned from him and floated lightly in the air a few inches from his
prisoner incase his legs seem to have some type of strengh with busted knee
caps.-" let's see what happens and we'll see how to precede?>d<
Syados Edge: ‡In truth, Corothius and his men wore similar garb. Roman
attire to a certain likeness. Pteruges for isntance hung from their
accouterment laiden belts to hang over there thighs like skirts. Whilst
beneath them were boots shod with linking steel plates for defense as well as other uses in
combat and formality. There were times they would don breastplates and such
suitable armor, but were not donning any torso armor now. Their cloaks though
were bellowing about them, as were the leather straps that hung from belts, amidst
the darkness that concealed much, but were still seen as the lights from the
skies above were all that were needed to do a nightly task. Nonetheless, the
two men who were near to falling victim to the green mist and had been
retreating into the forests found them releived of the gaseous substance when
the winds began to stir suddenly, and moments following did much more than
draw at the air they breathed in. Men began to have difficulties speaking over one
another to fall join the others in falling back as the lich made himself
identifiable amongst all the other standing undead. The gale of winds were
another directive that drew even Corothius' attention directly to their momentary
savior. Or would these winds become their destruction. One or two of his men
continued to cling upon a statue, and one upon a stone engraved cross to
await the winds to grow stronger. Yet they seemed strong enough to serve the purpose at
hand. At 30 degrees one could be blown off of ones feet to a small degree. At
40 you would have to be a seafaring man adapt at balancing yourself on deck
to walk. These were those very men who had a ship to return to, the more arms
to oar it the better. The handful of his men retreated from the graveyard
earnestly enough until the nearby trees were again reached and branches and
trunks put to use to evade the winds and cling to whilst threading their way out
of sight. Corothius meanwhile would remain for a moment further to identify
just who the lich was, or perhaps listening to the sounds of one of his men
in the far distance suffering from some incentive of unknown pain. With a
regret that the man could not be saved he fell back into the shadows as well.
The edges of his persona darkening with his surroundings as he'd take his
leave as well. Their blades had been bloodied, and powers stronger than their
own had been introduced to them. Meanwhile, the captive mans knees had been
smashed against. Boots that rose up over each knee with steel encasings still
received the impact. What leather padding was worn beneath was perhaps not
enough to cushion what strength the captor secretly endowed beneath it's
scrawny appearance. His mind would soon curdle to the electric shocks that
were drawing through his hands still, and the puddles of darkened blood beneath each
palm where blades were embedded in the ground. A last means of thought was
drawn as the sound of his crew were heard calling for their retreat in the
far distance, barely able to be heard over the uproar of the winds. Twas as
the priest rose up into the air to look upon the ongoings that the man would
gather his strength, and will, and struggle to lunge his throat towards one
of his hands. The blade was a quick end to his own life, one that would slice
through his own throat to spew forth that splash of jugulars rush of blood to
his brain and leave him a dead corpse in a matter of a draining moment
following.‡
Dance of the Rot: ::A lithe arm stretched out, followed by a boney finger
that laid to rest pointing at the captain, as if signaling him, calling him
out and marking him. The winds did not die down, but they did not follow him
either, and as they fell back, he gave chase. Strides became longer, his gait
quicker and more pressed as he decended upon them with great urgency. The
undead that were not slain made attempts to return themselves to their
graves, seaking shelter from the wind one by one as their animation was forced
from them and the husks fell still once more. The further the figure strode
from the focal point of the storm, the less his robes flew about and the
weaker the winds became untill his ghastly voice could be heard above the call of
the winds.:: "Stand your ground, you will have words with me, this I
command!" ::He spoke with a voice that was used to giving commands and never
taking them, as if he had been born into authority. His hand fell to his side once
again as he stopped ten paces from the tree line, the storm behind him dieing as quickly as it had become born.:: "What buisness takes you to my shores, and who dares awaken my fallen from their eternal
slumber?"
XlXShadowWarrior: Your friends know our will look at them scattered it's
almsot as if.- he would sense something and turn back just in time to see the
man take his own life.- He soon landed on the ground and knelt down infront
of the corpse.- " Oh no we can't have you dying that easily... thankfulyl you'll
be weak so i can remove the bindments.-:: he gripped the blades ripping them
out of the dead man's palms. He then placed his hand on the neck wound and
began to concitintrait . The air began to grow cold around the two as a mist
began to form. the priest looked up and there he saw it, the man's ghost orb.
Extending his staff out he would say a small chant and something shot out
from the staff to catch the soul and pull it back into the body. That was when the
priest quickly went to work healing his captive, something he normally did
either to prevent his toys from dying or just to tear them up all over again.
He'd smirk under that veil soon as the man regained his color'
Welcome back.... He would snap his fingers and the two would appear in a
black sphere and dissappear only to reappear far from the area in a cave.
there he Had his friend by the throat slamming him against the wall. before he slid
off of it red lights would appear and bind the man's wrists and ankles and
neck to the wall.- "hmph.. you thought you could get away that easy... how
noble." My little fun was ruined by another person who stole my toys... least I
managed to take one... now let see what secrets are louge in that skull of
yours.- the oriest reached out and grabbed the man's skull and began to
concintrait while he searched hsi mind for knowledge, knowledge about himself, knowledge
about thsoe who were with him knowledge about their comander, their base
where their taking sheltor for the moment, anything he thought would be
useful or needed he would rape the others mind by invadeing it just to get what he
wanted.->D<
Syados Edge: ‡It was a scare in itself, having a skeletal figure of such a
sort, wielding magic, and pointing directly at you. It was enough to stricken
you with fear at first. To await some spell to cast you on the earth as dead.
But it didn't happen. Instead, Corothius continued to back away, perhaps
stalling for his men to fall behind him and enter the woods to become the
unseen once more, much like the undead who had been walking moments priorly.
It was as the winds died down, and the lich came to the edge of the woods
themselves that Corothius perhaps made the decision to loiter about for a
short time afterwards. He had never heard a skeleton speak before, nor was he
sure if it was the best idea to attempt to sneak away and hope that it's next spell
wouldn't cause the death of him and his crew more than it already was known
capable of doing. He thus shouted out from the darkness of the woods. The
darkness that concealed with ease any who were within the overtures of
branches and bushesa like. Treebases making an easy length of a wall that
concealed those passing beyond their limit of view. -"....Whoever it was, it
was not us. I have lost one of my men, he will be returned for. As for why we are
here....that....how shall we say...What is in lands unknown is one mans' way
of becoming more of a man...and a soemtimes..a richer one..though here...I
think we may become dead men..". Elsewhere, where the captive would come to life,
blood would gurgle its way through a healed throat as breath was fought for
when life was returned. The feint amount of effort able to be used was used
merely to breathe.and breathe alone...it seemed it would take some time to have
his blood begin to flow throughout his body again...‡
Dance of the Rot: ::If their was any immotion, it was impossible to tell
through his face or eyes, for there was really none left. Instead it was his
voice which one must listen to, and listen well he should, for he gave
critical advice.:: "Follow the shore West as the crow flies, round the Horn to the
South and follow the shore until you reach the Capital City. If you seek
riches, that is where you will find them. If you seek death, venture else
where in these inhospitable lands. I will watch over your journey should you follow
it, and I shall make sure no harm falls upon you again. The Konigriech needs
more trade. Go, make ready your ship. Your dead is lost to you for now. I
shall return him in due time if you follow my guide."
XlXShadowWarrior: hmmnn.. How unfortunate I'll have to wait... that's no
problem... int he mean time let's see what toem doing shall we- and eh turned
to face two glowing orbs on the other side of the wall. these orbs ahd
purpsoe they were his extra eyes and what gave himt hese extra eyes.. well it was the
mask that was watching from a distance like a trained spy at the undead man
and those who were with him who were fighting his toys until the dead man
changed all that and ruined his entetrainment. He'd have betetr fun with his
captive when eh reached an unfortunate full recovery. for now he'd watch and
spy through the eye spheres which were linked to the eye holes of his mask
that watched and listened.->D<
Syados Edge: ‡It would be a decision he would have to think upon. An
invitation to obtain aid from that which was known in tales and child stories
as one of evil creation and purpose. It was also completely unholy if one
were to speak to a priest about it upon his return to a cathedral. He remained
silent to the invitation, and slipped further into the darkness of the woods.
If a guide would be provided to provide them such assurance than they would
be watched over, and whether or not they would follow the coast further would be
proven. It was a choice, that or head north for the Port of Kiel. A choice he
would have another few hours to decide upon whilst upon the waters, with his
crew that wasstill alive and awaiting him again within their ranks.-‡
