Lord Kenshin
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jan 19, 2002
- Posts
- 175
OOC: Post all your IC threads in here from now on.
IC:
Antyreal:
Antyreal crept slowly down the hallway, his sword dragging behind him on the ground. His arm was covered in blood causing the gash on his tricep to turn a small cloth crimson. He had been attacked by two groups of three earlier, and he was afraid if he stayed in the same place for too long, they just might return to finish him off.
Antyreal spun quickly, footsteps being heard from down the hallway as he rolled into a dark, empty room. He turned and closed the door quietly, placing a sturdy chair in front of it as he moved to the back of the room, searching for other objects he could use. He groaned, his arm rubbing against the wall as he crouch down to wait and see who was coming.
The door pushed back, the chair skidding across the room as it shaddered, the wood splintering all over the far wall. Two silouettes stood just inside the doorway, looking directly at the corner in which Antyreal was crouched in.
Antyreal sighed, standing up and stepping forward slowly, the creatures doing the same. He waited, his sword drawn back, seeing what the two figures were doing.
"Now you two die."
The words were soft and sincere, Antyreal charging the two with his hand raised and the sword drawn back further. He sliced, rolling betwen the two as his blade cut through the figure on the left's midsection, fluids dropping to the floor just as soon as the slice was made.
Antyreal continued the roll, carrying himself through the open doorway and back into the hall. He turned and sprinted, the heavy clanking footfalls of the only creature still alive from the two man group.
Antyreal continued running, taking turns and making his way through rooms and into new hallways.....
Khael:
Khael took a swig of ale, before placing the tanker down in front of him. From the corner of the tavern he could see and hear almost everything that was going on. One conversation on the table next to him caught his attention.
"Did you hear? Old Fritma has been attacked by some huge army! And some say conquered!" Said the first man, a big, slightly drunk brute of a guy.
"Well, I heard it's already been wiped out! A wasteland, they're calling it! And there's refugees fleeing to here as we speak!" said his companion, a short, skinny, rat-looking guy.
"Are you guys serious?" Khael asked, standing and walking over to the two surprised men.
"Uh... yeah... who are you?" the brute said. The other man narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.
"No one." Khael said. Without saying any more, he exited the tavern. If this was true... Khael had learnt about the Balance between Life and Death, and if such a force was dealing out Death in such a fashion... he had to do something about it. And his first step was to go to the temple of Andral, to seek spiritual guidance.
Darion:
A bolt of lightning lit the ground like a thousand bonfires. The ensuing thunder made Darion cringe. He could hardly seen through the blinding rain, and his head was pounding from exhaustion.
Suddenly, he heard a the sound of a footstep to his right. He didn't turn his head, but he slowly moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. He could not see how many there were, but he assumed there was more than one; bandits never traveled in groups.
Sure enough, he soon heard more footsteps to his left. He contimplated on what to do. Running would by him some time, but he didn't want to be tired when fighting multiple opponents. The footsteps moved closer, and he could hear heavy breathing. He didn't have time for this - he had to make it through the woods tonight.
Without warning, Darion dashed to his right, drawing his sword in the process. As he reached the edge of the path, he swung in an arc, his blade cutting into the undergrowth. His plan seemed to have worked; the bandits jumped back, suprised. They had not expected an offensive move. Before they knew what was happening, Darion thrust his sword through the torso of the nearest bandit, rupturing the solar plexus. Without even a scream, the bandit fell in a heap.
Darion knew he couldn't fight in a confining space like this, so he burst into a sprint for the nearest clearing. His enemies chased after him, but they had no chance of keeping up with this young ranger, and Darion gained some time. Upon reaching the clearing, he ran to the center, then turned and nocked an arrow into his bow. He then aimed at the line of trees, watching and waiting...
IC:
Antyreal:
Antyreal crept slowly down the hallway, his sword dragging behind him on the ground. His arm was covered in blood causing the gash on his tricep to turn a small cloth crimson. He had been attacked by two groups of three earlier, and he was afraid if he stayed in the same place for too long, they just might return to finish him off.
Antyreal spun quickly, footsteps being heard from down the hallway as he rolled into a dark, empty room. He turned and closed the door quietly, placing a sturdy chair in front of it as he moved to the back of the room, searching for other objects he could use. He groaned, his arm rubbing against the wall as he crouch down to wait and see who was coming.
The door pushed back, the chair skidding across the room as it shaddered, the wood splintering all over the far wall. Two silouettes stood just inside the doorway, looking directly at the corner in which Antyreal was crouched in.
Antyreal sighed, standing up and stepping forward slowly, the creatures doing the same. He waited, his sword drawn back, seeing what the two figures were doing.
"Now you two die."
The words were soft and sincere, Antyreal charging the two with his hand raised and the sword drawn back further. He sliced, rolling betwen the two as his blade cut through the figure on the left's midsection, fluids dropping to the floor just as soon as the slice was made.
Antyreal continued the roll, carrying himself through the open doorway and back into the hall. He turned and sprinted, the heavy clanking footfalls of the only creature still alive from the two man group.
Antyreal continued running, taking turns and making his way through rooms and into new hallways.....
Khael:
Khael took a swig of ale, before placing the tanker down in front of him. From the corner of the tavern he could see and hear almost everything that was going on. One conversation on the table next to him caught his attention.
"Did you hear? Old Fritma has been attacked by some huge army! And some say conquered!" Said the first man, a big, slightly drunk brute of a guy.
"Well, I heard it's already been wiped out! A wasteland, they're calling it! And there's refugees fleeing to here as we speak!" said his companion, a short, skinny, rat-looking guy.
"Are you guys serious?" Khael asked, standing and walking over to the two surprised men.
"Uh... yeah... who are you?" the brute said. The other man narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.
"No one." Khael said. Without saying any more, he exited the tavern. If this was true... Khael had learnt about the Balance between Life and Death, and if such a force was dealing out Death in such a fashion... he had to do something about it. And his first step was to go to the temple of Andral, to seek spiritual guidance.
Darion:
A bolt of lightning lit the ground like a thousand bonfires. The ensuing thunder made Darion cringe. He could hardly seen through the blinding rain, and his head was pounding from exhaustion.
Suddenly, he heard a the sound of a footstep to his right. He didn't turn his head, but he slowly moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. He could not see how many there were, but he assumed there was more than one; bandits never traveled in groups.
Sure enough, he soon heard more footsteps to his left. He contimplated on what to do. Running would by him some time, but he didn't want to be tired when fighting multiple opponents. The footsteps moved closer, and he could hear heavy breathing. He didn't have time for this - he had to make it through the woods tonight.
Without warning, Darion dashed to his right, drawing his sword in the process. As he reached the edge of the path, he swung in an arc, his blade cutting into the undergrowth. His plan seemed to have worked; the bandits jumped back, suprised. They had not expected an offensive move. Before they knew what was happening, Darion thrust his sword through the torso of the nearest bandit, rupturing the solar plexus. Without even a scream, the bandit fell in a heap.
Darion knew he couldn't fight in a confining space like this, so he burst into a sprint for the nearest clearing. His enemies chased after him, but they had no chance of keeping up with this young ranger, and Darion gained some time. Upon reaching the clearing, he ran to the center, then turned and nocked an arrow into his bow. He then aimed at the line of trees, watching and waiting...
"YOU BASTARDS LOOK WHAT YOU DID!!! WE WERE ON EARTH THE WHOLE TIME!!!!"
