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Progenies of the Pantheons
Topic Started: 24 Feb 2011, 04:44 (1,459 Views)
The Dork Knight
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Elysium. It was just a fancier way of saying paradise, of the perfect place where nothing went wrong, and there were bunnies and rainbows and cute fluffy things, and everybody held hands and sang and loved each other.

Well, that didn’t really describe the demigod’s homeland, but it was what it was supposed to be. It was, instead, a whole new kind of paradise; it was the freedom to be who they wanted, believe in what they wanted, and do as they pleased, within reason. It wasn’t much, at least not right now. It was in the “small village” stage of paradise, many buildings still being built, a good handful of them at completion, but it was still the perfect sanctuary for those who were running from oppression, and the templars that sought to enforce the oppression.

The small village was nestled comfortably in a valley surrounded by high mountains, not an easy trek to make to get to the place. Which was perfect for them; few people were brave enough to search for the sanctuary, and fewer, still, were successful, unless they spoke with one of the current residents.

The sun had set behind the mountains in the west long ago, and the star-dappled sky was obscured by dark, looming clouds that sent buckets of rain falling down on the village. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped, and everyone seemed to look in the direction of one leather-clad, dark haired female.

“Don’t look at me. This isn’t my doing.” Tora said defensively, causing everyone to shake their heads in doubt and slink back under their cover from the rain. Small fires lit up the windows of many of the houses, especially the tavern, where most of the men who were hard at work all day had gone to share a drink before retiring home for the night.

In the larger building, in the northernmost part of the village, a group of the wisest demigods were sitting around a large table with plenty of maps strewn across them, and an equal amount of mead glasses, discussing plans that were to be executed the following night, plans to rescue some of their fellow demigods who were held captive and sent to be executed in short time.
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"The darkest souls are not those which choose to exist within the hell of the abyss,
but those which choose to break free from the abyss and move silently among us."

Eurennas Chronicles; part one: The Awakening (Reboot) IC | OOC
Hellbound Chronicles; part one: Omen IC | OOC
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tyrade
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Overly hyperactive posting village idiot
A final hammer strike on his newest blade before being dipped for cooling, a loud hiss and a cloud of steam sounded the completion of another fine blade. As thunder rumbled above him and rain began to fall, Dagold looked to the sky with a humored smile. "Seems like Uncle Zeus is in a bad mood today." His distraction caused him to grab his next sword from the furnace without a glove, burning his hand. After a long strain of curses Dagold dipped his hand in the water as it flowed up onto his hand, healing the burn. "Gotta be more careful..." He muttered to himself as he put on his glove to pull the sword.


Annoyed by her free time from dagold being rained on by her uncle, Jamie went from a walk to a jog to get out of the rain, though her effort was in vain. Her clothing was soaked when she got home, and she ran to the fireplace to dry off. Annoyed by the fire having not yet been lit a small bolt of fire flew from her fingertip, igniting the logs as she took her dress off to hang over the fire to dry, sitting in her white under-gown to warm up. She wrung her long red hair into a bucket, trying to get it to dry faster. Her mother walked in to find her still sitting by the fire. "Well that isn't very lady like, you had best get dressed before any guests arrive."
Edited by tyrade, 24 Feb 2011, 05:06.
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It seems every serial killer is someone you least expect, meaning we are safest around those we expect to kill us
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Lord Synical
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Sethan

'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...'

The crack of splintering wood pierced the rumble of a thundering sky, a crackle of lightning illuminating the ruined practice dummy as the chain whip which had inflicted the mortal wound, separating head from torso, snapped back to coil around the arm of its wielder. Golden eyes burning like the fires of Olympus within the darkened night, Sethan spun forwards, longsword slicing out to carve a deep groove into the belly of the target, legs lifting from the earth in a horizontal cartwheel as he finished his spin, chain snapping out to curl around the right 'arm' of the target and with inhuman strength, rip it clear from the wound with a groan of the metal securing it in place.

'I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.'


Another bolt of lightning illuminated the decimated practice ground, chips of wood and shattered remnants of once-whole targets littering the earth. Steam rose off the bare chest of the lone combatant, his lips a permanent frown, sanguine hair like a river of blood fell soaked over his features. Where the water hit, it seemed to evaporate just as quickly, leaving the warrior ever-warm despite the torrential downpour. Heart thundering, chest rising and falling with air, he lifted his gaze to the heavens, searched the dark storm clouds. Another bolt of lightning erupted from above, striking the ground nearby. He never flinched, ignoring the ringing in his ears as he extended his arms heavenward.

'Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;'

His mouth opened and he screamed at the clouds, "ZEUS! IS THAT ALL YOU MUSTER TO YOUR NEPHEW'S FURY?!" Another roar of thunder, a bolt of lightning that obliterated a target dummy, sending shrapnel to lacerate the flesh of his chest - wounds which began healing not a minute later, "SHOW ME YOUR RAGE, UNCLE! BATHE ME IN YOUR WRATH!" Yet another bolt of lightning fell, this time striking the wooden fence and immolating it in a wide circle of flame. Unnatural flame, where images of war and death danced, and Sethan's lips turned to a grin, "FATHER! HEAR YOUR SON'S CRY FOR BATTLE! REVEL IN YOUR OFFSPRING'S GLORIOUS FERVOUR!"

'Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.'

His arms lowered, his fists curled and he lowered his head. The flames burned higher, the thunder rumbled louder and finally, with a cry to chill the blood, an inhuman roar to the creatures of the night, the heavens above and any soul unfortunate enough to hear him bellow his carrion call to challenge enemies of Elysium, Sethan, son of Ares, cried out; "COME FORTH, ENEMIES OF ELYSIUM! THERE WILL BE BLOOD FOR OLYMPUS AND THE SON OF WAR!"

'Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.'



Raxus

Elsewhere, seated in the centre of town upon the edge of the stone fountain, peering upwards at the blackened storm clouds as they roiled and thundered; Raxus smiled contentedly. He observed the flashes of lightning with silent admiration, watching the two bolts that struck near the distant figure of his brother, ever training, destroying the practice targets that stood in the arena. Sethan was a true Demi-God in Raxus' eyes, his brother's victories numerous and defeats near non-existent. The blood of war burned in his elder sibling's veins and to the younger boy, it was nothing short of amazing.

At times, he wished he were as brave as Seth. As the flames danced in ceremony to his brother's fury, the youth directed his gaze once more to the sky, gnawing his lip, "Father..." he spoke softly, watching another flash of white light send illumination over the town. The humans here were huddled inside, as were those of his own kind who were adverse to the torrential downpour afflicting the land at current. But Raxus was not, for it was in these strange, almost violent storms that he was most at home - felt complete. He had been told of his parentage from an early age, but he still found it hard to believe. Who wouldn't?

He could barely conjure a spark, let alone hurl lightning or do... this. His brother could hold fire in the palms of his hands as easily as breathing, and yet all Raxus could do was zap himself and be laughed at for his weakness. The son of Zeus. Ha! He may as well be human. hands pressed to the hard stone of the fountain's edge, he smiled at Sethan's scream, revelling in his brother's charisma. Despite the morbidity and violence, the disturbed manner most people perceived he acted, Raxus knew the true face of Sethan - the warm, loving brother who would pacify him when frightened and protect him without hesitation.

Sitting there in the rain, reflecting on these moments, the world seemed a little bit less terrifying thanks to his brother's presence - and as another lightning built lit the earth, he amended the thought; his brother's presence, and father's eyes. Tora was the daughter of Thor, the God of Thunder to the Norse and his father's counterpart. She had always maintained strength over her element, and though she probably could supply it, he had never had the courage to ask her aid in learning his abilities. After all, the Norse children and Greek children often failed to see eye to eye.

But the others had left Raxus alone for the most part, due centrally to his brother's ominous presence. They had learned long ago to concur on one thing; the son of Ares was not an enemy to be challenged lightly, nor was he a foe to tangle with without adequate preparation. Sethan had killed two Demi-Gods already when they had tried to attack him and since it was forbidden by the heavens for mortals to slay Demi-Gods, the village elders had instead forced him into service with the guard - harnessing his talents for murder and bloodshed towards Sethan's father's purpose: War.

Leaning back against the fountain's second level basin, he smiled wider - things were peaceful at that moment. He hoped the storm would never end.
Edited by Lord Synical, 24 Feb 2011, 05:50.
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Double 'The Fun' Felix, Jul 10 2008
12:55 AM
And I just wanted to say that using different colors in your roleplaying posts is distracting and should probably be avoided unless your name is Lord Synical, because he is an exception. A big exception. To everything. Thanks. He's also batshit insane.
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The Dork Knight
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Tora looked to the clouds above, watched the lightning flash repeatedly, and let a small smile creep up onto her lips. “I hear you, father.” She murmured softly, gripping the hilt of her hammer at her hip lightly. The weapon she treasured so dearly was forged by her own hand, forged into the likeness of the hammer that was so well known in Asgard, that was so well known throughout the followers of the Norse pantheon.

She sat upon a rock on the edge of the village, looking out across the valley that they were safely tucked into, sighing softly. Another dull night, she thought to herself, shaking her head, her long brown tresses bouncing lightly. She looked back to the village just in time to see the lightning strike once more and illuminate what they called the Mead Hall, where all of the council meetings were held, and where some of the other founding demigods were huddled and plotting.

Tora smiled again. Sigrun was in there, her closest friend, almost like a sister, figuring out how they would free more of their kind from the oppressive forces of the Christians. Sure, there was strife between the pantheons, but nothing as bad as the severe hatred the Christians had shown towards them. They seemed like a plague, and had to be wiped off the face of the planet.

As her gaze turned back to the valley, lightning struck once more, just in time to reveal someone trying to sneak up on her. Up came her shield, easily knocking away the blow, giving her time to bring her hammer to her hand, ducking to evade another blow. Whoever was fighting her wasn’t that well trained, and it wasn’t long before Tora’s weapon found its way to the side of the man’s face, sent him sprawling to the ground. One more swing split the skull of her assailant open, and a strong grip on his jaw had it ripped out, with gore all over the place. Tossing the mandible away and dropping her shield, she grabbed a horn at her side, bringing it to her lips and blowing through with powerful lungs.

The sound resonated throughout the village, and even the valley itself, and in the Mead hall, all heads came up and looked to the door. Sigrun dropped whatever she was holding and reached for her spear behind her, muttering in Old Norse a blessing from the Allfather, Odin. “To battle, my brothers! It seems the gods are in need of us sooner than we had anticipated.”

The fiery redhead donned her skullcap, her loose braids falling down her back, bright blue eyes blazing with a hunger for battle. “If we should fall, I shall see you in Valhalla.” Despite some of the ‘brothers’ she spoke of being not of her following, she was not one to judge. She wasn’t elected a councilwoman for nothing, after all, and it was her fair treatment of everyone and her acceptance that earned her the high position.

“To arms, my brethren!” She called out at the top of her lungs as she stormed through the village towards the call of her warrior-sister’s horn. “Let us drive back our assailants, send them to Hel’s domain in Niflheim!”
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"The darkest souls are not those which choose to exist within the hell of the abyss,
but those which choose to break free from the abyss and move silently among us."

Eurennas Chronicles; part one: The Awakening (Reboot) IC | OOC
Hellbound Chronicles; part one: Omen IC | OOC
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tyrade
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Overly hyperactive posting village idiot
Dagold took great care in his final sword of the day, a present for his cousin. The sword was a fine, sharp, brutal blade that had been specially requested. He dip cooled it and wrapped it to protect it from the rain. He walked home to get his little sister, finding her stripped down by the fire. "Get dressed sis, we are off to the training ground. I'm sure our favorite cousins will be there."

Jamie obliged without compaint, she got along well with Raxus while Dagold was more partial to sethan. She couldn't understand how those two got along so well, Dagold was so calm and collected, and he always thought things through. Sethan was a barbarian who ate slept and breathe battle.

It was a fair walk to the grounds in the rain, Dagold had formed a large umbrella out of ice to hold over his sister's head. Her genes being more partial to the warmth of hell she hated cold rain.

They came to where Raxus was sitting and stopped to say hello. "Good evening cousin, enjoying your father's handy work?" Dagold said, trying to be friendly. He could never figure the boy out, but his sister seemed to be able to reach him. Dagold froze the umbrella to the ground to give them cover while he headed to the training grounds. Jamie looked down at her friend who was nervously gripping his seat. "Aren't you afraid you will get sick in all this rain?"

As the statues flew apart around Sethan a large icicle flew through one to get his attention. "Good evening cousin, I come bearing gifts." He said, holding up the wrapped sword. "It is just as you ordered, come take a look."
Edited by tyrade, 24 Feb 2011, 06:41.
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Lord Synical
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Sethan

( Best read to this. )

The dummies were poor replacements for a flesh and blood foe, Sethan reflected grimly, but they provided adequate distraction. The flames of his father had dissipated some few minutes prior and his focus was on the final dummy that remained. His attentions were diverted from his target when an ice spike lanced out from behind and slammed into the wooden post, uprooting it with the sheer force and slamming it into the muddied arena floor. Golden eyes unblinking, he turned to Dagold with a look of expectation, gaze drifting to the wrapped bundle in his hands.

"Good evening cousin, I come bearing gifts." He said, holding up the wrapped sword. "It is just as you ordered, come take a look." Approaching, the Demi-God waited for Dagold to unwrap the weapon, eyes scanning over the sword's surface before his hand dropped his current weapon without ceremony and grasped the hilt of the new blade. As per his specifications, the sword was folded and thin, with a curved steel that allowed for his cutting motions to be delivered with greater speed and accuracy

Flourishing the blade in his hand, he moved into a series of exercises in the rain; cutting, stabbing, slashing, hacking, smashing, parrying and finally a riposte. Straightening from his combat stance, he gripped the sword and nodded, turning to Dagold with a small smile, a change from his usual frown, "Thank you, cousin. It handles well and cuts true. I will rend many a foe with such a fine weapon." His old blade forgotten in the mud, he opened his mouth to speak further when he heard an unmistakable horn, its growing cry cutting a swathe of sound through the thunderous night - just as battle was joined and he heard the first clang of sword on shield.

Only a glance he spared for the other man before sprinting away, chain unfurling from his arm whilst his eyes blazed with the supernatural energy that surged in the warrior's form, feet slamming into the ground to propel him forwards to the fountain his baby brother had taken his rest upon. Finding no one in the vicinity, he growled, "Raxus, take Jamie and head into the woods. Don't go to the camp, you'll never make it. Stay hidden in the undergrowth - don't argue with me!"

Without waiting for a reply, and making the assumption Dagold had already talked to Jamie, he tore off again - sprinting towards where silvered armour was illuminated by the lightning clawing the sky overhead, a Christian banner billowing in the wind.

"Blood for my father!" he roared viciously, whip snapping out to gouge deep into the eye socket of the closest catholic knight, ripping the eye and a large gout of blood from it as the whip was drawn back, bending his knees and spinning on the balls of his feet to swing the chain around and use the razor edges along it to slice the man's legs out from under him, launching forwards to drag his new blade along his body, from his groin to his skull, with otherworldly force and rend him in half vertically in a flood of sanguine fluid.

Ducking forwards under a swinging, fanged flail, he launched himself into a twirl to the right before snaking forwards, blade snapping up to catch the flail chain around its length as his chain whip flew out, wrapping around the fellow's legs for Sethan to draw back, the armour on this knight stronger than the last - only allowing the demi-god to pull his legs out from under him and knock him onto his back, winding but not injuring the large man.

Undaunted, Sethan coiled his whip around his arm with a single twist of his wrist, using his now-free right hand to grasp the small metal handle of the chained flail, striding forwards and screaming an incoherent battle cry before slamming the spiked ball into his foe's face in a spray of blood and gore that painted his chest and face in dark red, smeared by the torrential rain.

Not bothering to check on Dagold's position - the other man was usually nearby - and instead charging further into the fray, Sethan skidded along the muddy ground under a trio of horizontal slashes, arms extending and head dropping as his spine folded forwards, before deploying his whip to great effect, arcing it in a semi-circle to slice the throats of all three assailants as he sailed past, their blood erupting out to join the torrent of water.

Howling like a demon of the underworld, Sethan stood and searched for his next target. Having noticed him, a small group of ten were standing with a mixture of halberds, swords and shields and battleaxes, eyeing him warily. No doubt they considered him someone 'possessed' by one of their fanciful 'spirits'. Ignorant savages. Golden eyes shining in the dark, he moved as fast as the lightning strike that accompanied, ducking through the first man's guard - an axe carrier - and shoving his blade through his chin and out of his head with his left hand, releasing the blade to duck a downwards swing from a longsword with a roll to his right, away from the falling corpse.

His chain whip snaked out as the new challenger lunged and caught him around the sword-wielding wrist, Sethan spinning backwards and using the razor edges on each chain link to saw the hand off swiftly, gouts of blood spewing from the wound as the knight screamed.

One of his compatriots to Sethan's close right came in with a halberd, stabbing, and the demi-god pivoted on the balls of his feet away from it, grasping the shaft with inhuman speed as he came around and tearing it away with godly strength, continuing his spin into another rotation and roaring as he impaled the man with his own spear in the same manner he had sought to do himself, lifting him into the air with the force of the blow.

Using the momentum, Sethan threw both halberd and spear into a second knight, causing the man to panic and scream for aid from the 'demon' whilst the son of Ares retrieved his sword with an unceremonious shlick out of his fallen foe's skull, straightening as the lightning illuminated him in the blackness. A devilish grin rested on his features from the bloodshed and they, both terrified and enraged, forewent sense and charged as one.

First came the second halberd, going for a more traditional arcing slash across Sethan's body, from his left shoulder to his right hip. Bending his spine backwards, he heard the whine from the steel as it passed with an inch from his body, the demi-god lofting a brow before simply snapping his arm out and impaling the idiot in the neck with the tip of his chain, tearing out most of his throat as he pulled the whip back.

The next opponent was an axe wielder, swinging wildly in a vain attempt to force Sethan backwards. Watching with a flat expression, he merely waited for him to lift the axe as he came closer before darting under his arms like a viper, using the wet ground to his advantage to drop to his back and slide through the knight's legs, slicing clean through his groin before coming to his knees behind the behemoth knight as he fell to his knees, Seth's blade reversed in the warrior's grip to stab backwards and through the back of the human's head, exiting his mouth in a spray of blood.

Wrenching the sword out, the demi-god stood, deflecting a frenzied blade strike, grasping the hand that made it in his left and using his right to slam a punch into the other's solar plexus with his chain-whip's top at the fore of the strike, piercing the other's armour and ignoring the blood immediately thrown up into his face, twisting the spike before kicking the other man with a bone-cracking snap, sending his lifeless corpse sailing through the mud.

The remaining four came at him at once from all directions, swords levelled for the charge, at which point Sethan merely bent his knees and launched himself into the air, amused by their lack of memory in pertinence to his gifts. Reaching a height of eight feet, he flipped backwards twice and landed behind what looked like a spur-of-the-moment huddle, wiping his blade on his arm as the four fell down, impaled on each other's blades.

A faint whimper caught his ears and slowly, Seth looked to the left, raising his eyes from his sword to do so - examining the form of the man whose hand he had cut clean. Lying on the floor, he had managed to crawl a fair distance, but seemed in too much shock to go further. A slow smile spread across the demi-god's expression and he moved towards the other, flames erupting along the length of his whip. A blood-curdling shriek of terror ripped from the throat of his soon-to-be victim, before Seth calmly stabbed him in the left leg, slicing outwards to separate the bones and flesh completely, mutilating the limb.

Tilting his head, he looked to the other leg as the man screamed for mercy, flailing his pair of stumps while his executor showed little care, right foot pressing his good leg down on the shin, before he dropped his whip, snapping it to coil it around the fallen warrior's limb, thigh to shin. Smiling sweetly, a crackle of lightning illuminated them before Seth ripped the chain backwards, lacerating the length of his foe's leg in an explosion of blood, the other man's eyes filled with tears as he grasped with his good hand towards it, clawed in the severity of his affliction, throat hoarse and bleeding from his screams.

The rain washed away the blood quickly, the leg little more than a malformed pillar of deep, bloody grooves and flesh that seemed unwilling to stay joined, separated to the bone, but still clinging - a sight of nightmare and terror, the work of demons indeed. Bending, Sethan fixed him with a direct stare, his terrified prey too mortified to muster the strength to avoid tthose piercing golden hues. In them, he knew the truth of their existence: Death. He had dared to confront death, and he was paying the price.

Seth's blade lifted and, never breaking the other's gaze, he stabbed him clean in his good shoulder, twisting the sword as he did so and causing the other's blood vessels to rupture and flood his eyes crimson from the intensity of his scream. Pulling his blade out, Sethan spoke with a voice like the Christian devil himself, "Tell them who did this. Let them all know that Sethan, Son of Ares, comes for their heads." He regarded him a moment, the man lying on his back in the mud, his left hand and leg from his thigh - by Seth's view down on him - cut clean away, his right arm useless from the wound that had torn open his shoulder and his right leg mauled, diagonal slices that wound right to the bone causing the dying flesh to seep with water and mud - blood loss wouldn't kill him, the son of war wouldn't allow that. Flames licked at his wounds abruptly, cauterizing them in agonizing process, with a final dark smile from the demon of Elysium.

And with that, he was gone - vanishing into the night to rejoin the battle.
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Double 'The Fun' Felix, Jul 10 2008
12:55 AM
And I just wanted to say that using different colors in your roleplaying posts is distracting and should probably be avoided unless your name is Lord Synical, because he is an exception. A big exception. To everything. Thanks. He's also batshit insane.
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Cassandra
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Cassandra watched as her sister continued to flirt with one of the local soldiers. Just another example of Runa passing all the work off on her. It never mattered how busy they were, her younger sister was always looking out for her self. It had always been this way. They may be identical twins save their eyes, but Runa had all the confidence and charisma. Not Cassandra, she preferred to keep to herself. But if she wasn't around to keep an eye on her sister, there was no telling what sorts of trouble that would be stirred up. She knew how her sister worked. She may seem nice enough but she always had an agenda, and it rarely worked out well for whomever she used in her games. Without Cassandra, Runa would do everything in her power to reign chaos every where she went.

The young girl shook her head as she wiped down another table. Their father's tavern was packed tonight, due to the latest downpour. The two of them worked together, serving drinks and cleaning tables. At times, it seemed more like Runa was the entertainment while her more timid counterpart was just another piece of the background. She really was tired of it, but what could she do. Her sister was who she was.

Runa laughed as the young soldier finished a crude joke, involving himself and the young barmaid. She was used to the jokes and actually enjoyed the attention. It didn't matter to her that he was human. Besides, if she could keep his interest going long enough, she would be able get him to do whatever she wanted. It had been some time since the last fight in their budding village. The young demi-god had always enjoyed watching people going after each other. She always figured it was a trait she had inherited from her mother, the goddess of strife and discord, Eris. Regardless, she always had fun causing as much chaos whenever she could.

The man leaned closer to whisper something in her ear when the battle horn sounded over the crashing thunder. They were under attack? Runa watched as their patrons leapt from their chairs and rushed out the building with their weapons in hand. She turned to her sister who had obvious signs of fear in her blue eyes. Runa's red eyes narrowed on her sister as disgust filled her. She couldn't stand how weak her older sister was, but she couldn't let anything happen to her. Not because she cared about her, but because they were bound in spirit. If one were to perish, so would the other. If having to deal with her as a sister wasn't bad enough, she also served as Runa's biggest weakness. What had she ever done to piss the Gods off so much that they would give her this curse? Or was it her mother who had wronged someone? Damn them all.

Without another thought, Runa ran after the towns warriors to find out exactly what was going on. She wasn't a coward like her sister. She loved a good battle. Reveled in the blood and carnage caused in a real fight. Her sense were reeling. She could feel the faint tingle she always got when someone close by was in pain. That feeling is what she craved. She wanted to pay witness to whatever was taking place. But she needed to hurry. She knew her cousin was already there and if she didn't get there soon, it would already be over.


Cassandra was in the process of filling another order when she heard a sound that brought a chill down her spine. The horn alerting all the fighters in their home of an attack. She turned to see Runa's red eyes dancing with excitement before her sister had turned and ran out the door after the men. The woman was mad, but she could take care of herself if needed.

The young woman turned to her father who was taking up arms. "Go hide with the others, I'll go after her." She nodded at his order. Setting down the mug, she rushed out to find Jamie and Raxus. She figured she might be able to find the boy near the fountain at the center of town. She had seen him their often during storms. She just hoped she found the two before they went into hiding.
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tyrade
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Overly hyperactive posting village idiot
His cousin did a small test of his knew blade, easily abandoning his old blade. He cared little, it had been another blade made by Dagold's hand some months ago, dulled and worn by Sethan's rage. His dance like test flung the heavy rain around as though it were a form of art to be apreciated. Dagold knew however, this art was lost in his cousin's eyes. This demi-god of death cared only for how well the blade would kill his enemies. Dagold was soaked through, but he didn't care. He would often go to the lake and just sit under water for at least ten minutes at a time. The water comforted him, it helped to clear his head and mend his stress ached muscles. The water healed him, it was in his blood. His body was clean of scars as the water washed away even the most gaping wound.

Sethan had voiced his apreciation, as he always did of the quality of the blade. Dagold took pride in his work and being told it was fine steel was music to his ears.

However what wasn't music to his ears deafened it out, a nordic war horn. The village was being attack. The two exchanged glances before taking off towards their siblings, Sethan giving a direct order to get out of there. A breif nod to Jamie told her that doing the same was in her best interest. She nodded obediantly, she was trained, but was no warrior. If they were found she could defend herself but rushing into a large scale battle was suicide. She pushed her wet hair behind her ear and secured her sword on her hip before running off with Raxus.

As they ran through the town villagers were running in the other direction, all trying to get somewhere safe. Though the buildings were constructed of solid oak and stone it would not hold a legionaire for long. The wind and rain beat on his face at the speed they were running, his shoulder length hair being matted down by the waters weight.

As they ran past his shop he grabbed a spear he had left leaning against the wall for a customer to pick up, he would have to make a new one but he needed this one. As they arrived at the battle scene Sethan immediatly branched off to slaughter a nearby group of enemies, killing them with his usual ruthlessness. Another group began to surround Dagold, he stood in the middle, not moving a muscle contemplating his next move. Realization struck, a sudden downpour before an attack. "It seems my dear Uncle has given me a gift, don't you agree?" He said, spreading his arms at chest level, palms facing upward. He didn't expect a response, they wouldn't have enough time to give one. The rain became needles of ice as it poored down mercilessly on the soldiers, reducing them to a mess of chunks before he redirected them at a charging group. They smartened up this time and raised their shields. They were poorly armored, but the iron shields were enough to protect them from the razor hail.

Growing bored with this attack he rushed them, spear in hand. The first one foolish enough to thrust a spear at him had his spear shield parried before recieving Dagold's spear through his heart. Dagold kept his forward momentum by reaching behind the man and pulling the spear out through his back before shield ramming a man with his steel heater shield and pinning him to the ground with the spear. He drew his sword and flipped a man over his shoulder with his shield, landing him on the butt of the spear hard enough to impale him through his back. He jammed his sword into a man's ribs before yanking it out, flipping it to stab the man behind him before pulling the sword out and decapitating another man with the same swing. He did not like to waste movement in battle, he knew he would have to conserve his energy for a long fight, especially if paladins arrived. This seemed like an undertrained militia force that had happened upon the village.

He raised his hand above his head as several Ice tritons formed in the air before he threw them at another charging crowd. The ice had been hardened and sharpened to pierce the shields of those who had raised them in time and weight them down for Dagold to rush in and cut them down. His cuts were aimed, precise. His battle method was the exact opposite of his cousin, which made them a dangerous pair providing unpredictable battle tactics.

A crowd of twenty rushed him, causing him to have to revert to his cousins method a little. Brutal hacking and slashing before the water below them became a wall of spikes, impaling them all from below.

He raised his arms in the same manner he had before, this time the ground became dry as all the water around him began to levitate. "I have a message for your god." He said with cold eyes, "and you are going to take it to him for me. Leave us alone, we have done nothing but exist. You defy our parents' existence yet you see their might right before you. I want you to now feel this might in hopes it will discourage further trangressions."

The soldiers seemed only slightly intimidated, not believeing he was truly capable of killing them all. "In the name of god!" They yelled as a hundred men rushed him. "Oh good, you are enthusiastic in your assignment." He said as all the water rushed towards them, frozen blades contained within the rushing water, shredding them all to pieces as they were washed away down the mountain. He looked upward and closed his eyes to let the rain wash away the blood.
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It seems every serial killer is someone you least expect, meaning we are safest around those we expect to kill us
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The Dork Knight
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Tora had just finished extracting her warhammer from the ribcage of another victim when Sigrun came running to her side. “The gods bless us this night!” She called out to her battle sister, a big grin plastered on her face. The two demigoddesses clasped hands in greeting until Sigrun threw Tora to the ground and brought her spear up to parry a blow from a foolish Templar who thought he had the upper hand. His neck was met by the spearhead of Sigrun’s weapon coming out the other end, the man trying to scream with futility.

The brunette came up quickly at Sigrun’s side once her spear was removed from the unfortunate man’s throat, and she couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh. “It seems your time in the council has not diminished your prowess in battle, sister.” Tora commented, raising her warhammer to the skies. “Come, let us drive back the invaders with song on our lips, and should we fail, I will see you in the mead halls of Valhalla.”

With a loud war cry, the two women set their weapons to work, singing songs to their fathers and uncles, their aunts and their mothers up in Asgard. The two alone had wreaked more carnage and spilled more blood than a small battalion of well-trained men, and the song they sang only uplifted the others around them, made them join in on their song.

“Into battle we ride with gods by our side! We are strong, and not afraid to die!”

As their song continued, the paladins surrounded the two elder demigoddesses, but that only seemed to encourage them even more. Tora had stepped away from Sigrun, allowing her the room to swing her mighty spear around without having to worry about clipping the lightning-wielding warrior with the butt of her weapon.
Despite using a weapon that required both of her hands, Sigrun was able to swing her spear with great dexterity and superb grace, though there was nothing graceful about putting her spear through someone’s abdomen and tearing out their innards. Sigrun was a seasoned warrior, a great one at that, but she was not perfect; already she had earned a number of bruises and a handful of cuts, but the Viking was ever relentless in her hits.

The butt of her spear met her foe’s face, shattering his nose and splattering blood in every direction, the spear tip taking out his eye and tearing the skin past the corner and over to his ear. Behind her, another paladin tried to sneak up on her, but the daughter of the Norse god of War was no stranger to sneak attacks. She ducked low, the blade barely grazing her skull cap as she swung the back of her spear out and under his feet, tripping him up and sending him sprawling to the ground. Her spear tip found his neck, tearing through his windpipe and ripping his throat out as she extracted it. The back of her head was met with a heavy shield slam, and all she saw for the next few moments was stars.

“We have an urge to kill, and our lust for blood has to be fulfilled!”

Tora’s hammer found the skull of yet another paladin who got too close. The bone caved in and there was a sickening squish sound, followed by a deafening thunder clap, and more cracking and squishing noises when she pulled her weapon free, pulling more of the bone out of the already dead man’s head.

At the gruesome sight, one man who was previously approaching to attack her had decided fleeing was a better idea. He didn’t get very far, though, until Tora launched her heavy hammer into his back. Another thunder clap sounded upon impact, and the man just fell forward, his spine shattered, ribs snapped into too many pieces to count.

More men decided to flee and find easier targets, and Tora didn’t seem to follow them. Instead, she threw her head back and looked to the skies, letting out a loud roar that called out to her father Thor, the god of thunder and lightning, and her call was answered in the form of lightning striking down four of the fleeing men, causing them to fall to the ground and twitch violently and involuntarily, eventually snapping their own necks from the spasms.

“We fight till the end, and send our enemies straight to hell!”

Tora turned to see how Sigrun was doing, only to see, to her horror, that the fierce Viking was missing. “Sigrun!” She called out in panic, looking left and right in search of her best friend. She continued to call out her name and run to and fro, searching to no avail for the elder woman.

Rage filled her like never before, and anyone who was unfortunate to come anywhere near her was met with a hammer to the face, or severe lightning striking them. Needless to say, Tora took down more men in her rage than she had up until that point in the night.

The storm grew worse, winds picked up, and the gods responded to her anger.
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"The darkest souls are not those which choose to exist within the hell of the abyss,
but those which choose to break free from the abyss and move silently among us."

Eurennas Chronicles; part one: The Awakening (Reboot) IC | OOC
Hellbound Chronicles; part one: Omen IC | OOC
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Sashay
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The first notice Calandra had that war had begun within their fair city was the bugling call of the horn, giving her pause within the infirmary, hands hesitated in their task of refilling a jar of some rather reddish colored herb. Storms were common enough in Elysium, the crash of thunder and flash of lightning a near daily occurrence, but the meaning behind that trumpet could be no other.

Battle was coming.

With a suddenly soured expression, the healer abandoned her glass container and instead selected one perched high among the shelves packed full of a strange, pale-stemmed set of leaves which had been left carefully intact. She tucked a small handful of the foliage into a little canvas pouch, deftly securing it to her wrist with the thin attached belt. It was invaluable to her, this herb, and if conflict was on the horizon, then she wouldn't be caught on the battlefield empty-handed and purposeless. For that reason, too, she slipped two vials of unremarkable liquid into her pockets.

Before she could do any further supplying, the calm quiet within her infirmary was shattered by a great clamor at the main door. Once, twice, and the door had splintered. A third time and the panel broke free of its hinges, peppering the floor with a spray of needle-like fragments of wood that fanned in every direction. Calandra had never made a habit of locking the tiny, two-room building as there was little fear of thievery, so she could not help but seethe silently at the unnecessary damage of property. She was given little time for petty frustrations as shortly thereafter, three armed men burst through the newly-opened entryway.

Ducking behind her table, the girl's pale green eyes searched desperately for an option. To her right and across the room, a window could provide an escape, but she'd never have the godly speed necessary to reach, open, and leap through before they closed the distance. Resting on that windowsill was her precious dark-wooded lyre; engraved along its length were the likenesses of a winding serpents on either sloping side, entangled among the spread-winged forms of ravens, both symbols of animals sacred to her father. As much as the urge to collect her beloved instrument burned in her mind, she would have to be mad to believe she could do little more than give a single strum before caught. She had to think, think damnit!

Near the doorway, the first of the men swung the mace he carried into the closest cabinet, fracturing the simple wooden doors and smashing several of the jars therein with an audible crunch. Calandra cringed, she had to do something now or risk discovery at the bludgeoning end of that weapon.

The table she crouched beneath held a pair of gardening shears, a roll of unused bandaging cloth, a few empty containers, and a variety of uncut flowers arranged haphazardly in the middle. In a surge of desperation as the intruders stepped forward, her hands darted above to gather the glass jars, flinging them with as much force as she could muster blindly. Having caught them off-guard and successfully bought herself a scant few seconds, the young healer burst from her hiding place and sprinted toward the window. Snagging the lyre and tucking it against her chest, Calandra shifted on the last step to throw herself bodily through the window.

With a resounding crash, the glass gave way and she tumbled onto the ground, landing gasping with the wind knocked from her chest. The ruse hadn't fooled her attackers for long, and she scrambled frantically out of reach of the first to appear at the window, his fingers just barely missing the hem of her skirt. Her sandal-clad heel met his nearest arm, knocking it away while she hastened to her feet. Small cuts innumerable covered her arms and back, many pieces of broken glass still embedded within pale flesh and marring it with the welling of crimson blood. Each movement stung in protest, jarring the new flesh wounds unkindly, but her prized lyre had escaped the jump unharmed. Relief flooded her, but it did not last long.

Panting and hissing through the bark of pain, Calandra greeted the second of the intruders with retaliation. As he stalked out from the damaged doorway with that deadly mace raised in the promise of violence, the name of his god on his lips, she cradled in one arm the instrument, delicate fingers seeking the expertly tuned strings to unleash a disharmonic strum that hung in the air. Though she could not see his expression through the helmet he wore, the screech of startled agony that rose in response announced the effect. His hands sought the sides of his helm as if to clutch as his ears, a fine wet red leaking down his shoulders. Disabled in this way, he didn't even bother to grab her as she seized the opportunity to flee. She wouldn't wait for the third to investigate.

As it was, the moment she darted out into the street, the sound of a pursuer's hurried steps at her back reached her ears and fueled her flight. With a dancer's grace, she spun upon her toes and plucked a single chord from the lyre, directing the sound at the final combatant. When he did little more than stumble in his chase, a single grunt of discomfort echoing in his helmet told her it was ineffective just in time for his sword to swing at her neck.

Providing a shriek, Calandra ducked, and with the devil's luck managed to avoid being decapitated. The blade came down upon her from above and she was forced to roll away, narrowly missing her a second time while she dove out of the way, driving the shards of glass on her skin further into the tissue. There was no where to run, though she righted herself in urgency. The quaint village around her was awash with conflict, battle raging from all sides, the struggle of her fellow demi-gods barely recognizable above the din. In the distance, she swore she could hear a faint song. Even the sky blustered in a fury, lightning streaking across the inky clouds to be followed by a cacophony of thunder, thick droplets of rain soaking all those engaged.

"Sethan!" The cry left her lips, soprano voice valiantly fighting for dominance among the pandemonium. "SETHAN!" She leaped backward nimbly to avoid a third strike, and her opponent gave a muffled laugh to make her dance so.
Edited by Sashay, 25 Feb 2011, 08:22.
A woman let me put my penis inside of her!

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Mal: Well look at this. Seems we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?
Zoe: Big damn heroes, sir.
Mal: Ain't we just.
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Lord Synical
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Sethan

The wet, sickly sound of soft flesh squelching to the muddy earth was lost amidst the tumultuous roar of thunder, Sethan's daggertail whip snapped back around his arm as he observed his work with a moment of admiration. The art of his movements was lost to him, for he took no creative pleasure in his deadly dance - instead, he found comfort in results; the aftermath of the act. Strewn around him were desecrated bodies and dissembled forms, their crimson fluids draining along the artificial rivulets draw in the mud. Skulls hewn in twain, hands and feet strewn in a macabre display of abstract artistry, and carved torsos were the sign of his coming and subsequent action.

But for the storm that raged around him, Sethan's immediate vicinity would be naught but silence, as if the hushed appreciation of the mother earth itself. Blade held ready, he observed the approach of a warrior whose armament belied the truth of his nature; holy symbols lavishly imposed upon a gleaming vestment of plate, mail and cloth that bore connection to a linked chain upon his left hip, a thick tome - a bible, no doubt - marked with a white cross that reflected the strikes of lightning in brilliant silvered adornment: A Paladin of Rome.

Ever-frowning lips curled into the devil's smile, golden eyes glowing as if the torches of judgement within the hands of the four horsemen. Sanguine hair fell to shroud their ominous shimmer, a spectre of damnation extended in his long shadow, covering the recently deceased as if the possessive grasp of a jealous lover. Baring pearly incisors, the demi-god waited, poised as if a lion preparing its pounce. His foe raised a mighty blade, its surface engraved with symbols of divinity and edges ablaze with a righteous light; the Christian God favoured this son of Italy.

Sky blue eyes within the twin slits of a conical helm allowed for sight to be locked to the nightmare gold of their foe, the Holy Knight's golden plume struggling in vain to resist the merciless gale that harried its otherwise composed existence, forcing it to bend before the might of the pagan pantheons. With a cry of the name of the Christ, he charged, mighty armour thundering his approaching upon the rain-slicked earth, spiteful flicks of dark earth coating the silvered surface of his runed armour.

Sethan's movement was fluid as his foe made his assault, that new blade, having served so well, was transferred to the warrior's right hand, left gripping the bottom of the hilt as he matched steel-coated footfalls with the soft squelches of his bare flesh to the liquid-glutted dirt beneath, a roar to Ares emitted with the fury of his primordial titan forebears piercing the darkened night to counter the cry to the lamb of God.

A twin whine split the second of silence as the monolith met the murderer, blades slashed without discernible outcome whilst both challengers came to their halts, a bare two metres separating them upon that darkened battlefield not unlike the ever-dreary Underworld. A razor bolt of lightning like the judging hand of Zeus struck down from the heavens to illuminate the field and the tense observation of both parties, Greek and Norseman stilled from their combat as Spaniards, Italians and Anglo-Saxons watched the unmoving forms of their respective champions.

A cacophonous peal of approving thunder followed that illuminating claw and the holy blade of God's champion fell from between armoured fingers, the silvered behemoth unable to maintain his weight as a stream of scarlet spewed forth like fleeing valour from the monstrous gash across his torso, lacerating him from left hip to right shoulder. Dropping forth, his last vision was of the unforgiving earth as muddied Gaia claimed another son, the pagan defenders howling their champion's victory to the approving rumble of the fickle gods.

"SETHAN!"

Golden eyes sought a foe to find none, instead witnessing the sight of fleeing 'knights' abandoning dignity in the face of their darkest nightmare, the spawn of Hell, the son of Satan, child of murder, bloodshed and war: Sethan, progeny of Ares, Demon of Elysium. Interested neither in basking, nor the glowing praise of lesser warriors, he vanished between two flashes of victorious lightning, a wraith in the night, hurtling with the speed of legend towards his newest target, drawn by the beckoning cry of one he loved.

Buildings posed little obstacle to the immortal soldier, his strides launching him upon a post to press on, elevating him above the constricting grasp of gravity to sail upon the slated roof of the nearest home, hardened flesh slamming the rough tiling as his keen eyes spied the buxom form of his dearly beloved. No roar to alert his foe, nor a carrion call to alert the ravens to the coming feast.

Ares' heir needed no fanfare as he soared from the edge of his makeshift runway, sailing through the air as if the apparition of death's greedy fingers, whip launching forth to interrupt what would be a most fatal stab, snaking its chained form hungrily around the cold, rain-drenched steel to rip it from its owner's grasp and send it hurtling end over end into the night.

Power resonated from every inch of his blessed limbs, a god's son indeed as he slammed into the earth before his new foe, whip coiled around his arm, daggered tip held between calloused fingers. With his blade held ready, Sethan's enemy regarded him with unease, a shortsword drawn as reserve as he moved slothfully from foot to foot in some mockery of a dancer's routine, back and forth, as if attempting to jest his adversary to his grave. Stepping forth with an ill-advised stab, he hand only the window of a single breath to curse his fatal error before that barely-curved blade took his life, removing head from shoulders to send the sandy-haired skull to join its body upon the sludge of Elysium's ground.

Unerring, Sethan's whip hurtled into the shadow of the building he had so easily used as his platform for attack, finding purchase with the gurgled scream of his victim before the demi-god's powerful arm wrenched its prize back, the remains of an eye and grey matter washed from razor tip of the unforgiving weapon, caught so deftly in the scarred palm of its wielder. Straightening, neither the predator's eyes nor ears detected a new threat and his gaze came to she who he loved, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his blood-soaked features, so rough and handsome, despite their gruesome embellishment; "Are you injured, Calandra?"


Raxus

Raxus startled in panic at the sound of the horn slicing its way through an otherwise peaceful storm, timid features threatening hysteria as he looked to one of the only individuals he called friend, almost seeking reassurance from the tiny redhead femme, until the sound of squelching mud announced the arrival of his heroic sibling, all his fears vanishing as swiftly as they had appeared at his mere presence. An auspicious figure, his mere presence inspired courage in the younger child and when he was commanded to flee, in a tone that brooked no objection, he was more than prepared to follow instruction.

Scrambling from the carved stone that made up the main ring of the fountain, he sought Jamie's hand for some form of human contact and gripped it firmly, unwilling to yield the connection no matter what challenges they faced. As he prepared his hare-like bolt, the tavern door erupted open and soldiers spewed outwards, howling their cries to Odin and Zeus, Valhalla and Olympus, bellowing to their deities for blessing. From their midst came Cassandra, her ever-kind features locked determinedly on he and Jamie and compelling him to tarry for but a moment.

When the other woman had caught up, he grasped her hand in addition to his already firm hold on Jamie's, setting off at a sprint for the edge of the village and the blackened woodland of the mountain, the forest leading all the way down to the base. A spaniard appeared in their path, and then disappeared as quickly, a sudden blast of lightning conducting to his steel armour and killing him instantly. Lucky, almost too lucky, but it never occurred to the would-be heir of the King of the Greek Gods to believe it more than benevolent coincidence.

Erupting into the undergrowth, he hurtled with otherworldly sense of direction through the twisting and roiling darkness of the forest, leaping roots and rocks, vines, logs and other obstacles that presented themselves to impede the trio's progress with accuracy and precision only a demi-god could know. Behind, there was no sign of pursuit and ahead, there was only darkness and the distant rumble of thunder that seemed far removed from the rain-soaked realm of nature.

Coming to a halt some few precious minutes later, his stormy eyes searched for enemy presence and were met by nothingness, utter solitude answering his silent query. Relieved, he released the girl's hands and sank down to place his rump upon a relatively well-rounded stone, palms coming to cover his face as he trembled slightly, frame wracked in adrenaline-fuelled tremors. He was no warrior, that much was certain - and were it not for the storm above, hysteria would have begun its creep upon his brittle composure.

As it was, he felt safe under the watchful wrath of his father's lightning, and could only pray it remained until Sethan came to claim he and his companions once again from the arms of uncertainty.
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Double 'The Fun' Felix, Jul 10 2008
12:55 AM
And I just wanted to say that using different colors in your roleplaying posts is distracting and should probably be avoided unless your name is Lord Synical, because he is an exception. A big exception. To everything. Thanks. He's also batshit insane.
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Sashay
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There can be only one.
She had called and he had come, this bloodied savior, descending upon her enemies like the fist of an angry god and slaughtering them mercilessly for their transgressions. For the barest of moments, Calandra pitied them despite the attempts on her life, but it passed as fleetingly as it had arrived; they had earned their fate at his hands. She would mourn this loss of life another day, wish ill upon those who had ordered it once the imminent danger had passed. But for now, she stared upward at her guardian in adoring relief.

"Are you injured, Calandra?" he asked, and she shook her head to produce a lie meant to sooth his concern. "I am well, my love, never fear." Her slight frame shook within the saturated dress that clung uncomfortably to the curves of her body, whether from fear or adrenaline it couldn't be easily discerned, and scarlet blossomed within the fabric across nearly the entirety of her back and shoulders. Exposed arms were covered in a glittering layer of impaled glass bits, though the blood that weeped freely from them was washed away by the torrential downpour as rapidly as it surfaced. Even rain-slicked locks of spun gold held a defiant shard or two. Shaken, drenched, and bleeding from a variety of small lacerations, she looked a little worse for the wear.

"Are you?" A concerned frown creased her lips as she raised a hand to tenderly wipe clean a smearing of red from his cheek with one thumb, "Tell me the blood you wear is not your own."

Bright eyes darted reluctantly away from Sethan's to sweep across the gore-filled streets, expression faltering with disgust from the composure she maintained. Neither the training of a healer nor the lineage of a god prepared one for death on such a scale. "I don't understand it. Why have they come to put us down like dogs? Do we deserve no better?" Her fingers plucked in absent anxiety at the stings of the lyre she clutched ever-so protectively to her bust, the notes holding no magical effect in their muffled state. She who was practically a manifestation of order, harmony and reason found the situation to be in such extreme opposition of everything she represented. Perhaps the assault struck her so disturbing due to her personal involvement, but she didn't have to revel in the bloodshed in order to survive it.

No, with Sethan's imposing figure at her side, she merely had to endure. He would protect her, he always did. "The others?" She cast a glance toward her love, brows knit with determination that told of her decision to ride out this gruesome affair. "Have they met with your success? I heard Tora's song, I know she lives as of yet. Have the others fled? The city won't stand under such an onslaught without us."
Edited by Sashay, 25 Feb 2011, 10:12.
A woman let me put my penis inside of her!

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Mal: Well look at this. Seems we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?
Zoe: Big damn heroes, sir.
Mal: Ain't we just.
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Cassandra
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The one who wishes to post.
Cries for victory and the clash of sword on shield led the raven haired rogue to the battlefield. Bodies littered the valley and hillside in a bloody display that most wouldn't appreciate like she did. It was a glorious sight to her. But it wasn't what she was looking for. No, she was looking for someone specific. Her cousin, Sethan. The one true warrior in their village. He was the only person she had ever met that could cause utter destruction everywhere he went, without a second thought. He lived to kill. It seemed only fitting that she follow him as her mother followed his father.

Crimson eyes searched the men still fighting, unable to find him anywhere. Just as she started to climb the hill for a better look, one of the Christian soldiers came at her. Dropping to her left knee, she to hold of the dagger she kept strapped to her thigh, bringing it up to the warriors stomach in a sideways motion, splitting his gut wide. She watched as he staggered past her only a few feet before collapsing, a low groan escaping his lips.

The Demi-Goddess rose slowly to stare down at the mortal, a small smile played at the edge of her lips as she felt his last moments of pain. Nobody had ever understood why she craved the chaos of battle. It was for this. She could feel what those around her felt and had found a sick pleasure in the suffering and agony of others. She so rarely had the opportunity to enjoy a sensation like this. To see such a glorious bloodbath. It was also why she always sought out the son of Ares. She was sure with his fighting style that she would bare witness to a spectacular display of gore. Undoubtedly, if she followed the more grisly remains, she would find her way to his playground.

With that thought, Runa turned from the dull eyed man. He had already gone numb so he no longer served any use. She quickened her steps to reach the top of the largest hill only to find Dagold decimating his own opponents using the powers passed down to him by his father. She had honestly never cared much to the son of Poseidon; he was one of the many who never understood her twisted mind. But times like this, she didn't mind him as much. When he set his mind to it, he could destroy as many men as any other.

A new group started to approach them just as this last batch had fallen. The woman's smile widened as she tightened her grip on the dagger and took a step back to let her more distant cousin work. She wasn't really one for battle herself, but she more than knew how to fight when necessary. She much preferred the role of a bystander to that of someone who actually gets their hands dirty.

As she stood prepared should any of the men attack her, she scanned the battlefield once more for her cousin. There was no sign of him anywhere, but there was evidence that he had been here not long ago. She could see his handiwork only a few meters away. A bloody mess of scattered body parts covered the once lush grass, along with a charred soul who was still able to take breath into his body. Without a doubt, this was one of Sethan's victims. Surely a message to the others that he was not one they would want to mess with.



Cassandra found the young Raxus and Jamie only seconds after having left the shelter of her father's tavern. The young man took hold of her hand the moment she reached them and bolted toward the forest without a word. With little effort, she kept his pace, only hesitating when he did. His fear was incredibly and the contact between them only served to intensify her ability to feel it consuming his every cell.

She knew he was the more gentle of his mother's children. His brother was the son of Ares and a brilliant warrior, while this son of Zeus was nothing short of a cowardly boy. It didn't bother her though. She had always found his gentleness endearing and always thought of him as a little brother she never had. Maybe that was just her wishful thinking since the only sibling she had was a head strung woman who would be better suited as a warrior than a lowly barmaid. But one cannot choose their siblings.

After what seemed like a long time, Raxus finally came to a stop, dropping to the ground and covering his face. The poor boy was so scared and she didn't know of any way to try and soothe him. It always seemed only his brother could calm him, no matter what the situation.

She took a seat next to him on another small boulder, resting her chin on her knees to watch him. She knew Jamie well enough to know the girl probably wanted to help calm the boy as much as she did. Hopefully the girl would be able to. He was much closer to Jamie than herself. She could only hope that it would be one if their siblings who found them once the fighting was over and not one of the invaders.
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tyrade
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Dagold stood for a moment as the rain washed away the few minor wounds he had recieved in the rushed skirmish. Water was like an elixer to him, and his dear uncle was kind enough to supply a generous amount. As a new wave of soldiers emerged behind the ones he had just reduced to fluids, he saw another cousin, Runa, gutting one that had come from a seperate flank. He had never seen eye to eye with this girl, she reveled in battle and some to get a sick thrill out of watching people suffer.

He knew what she was here for, but Sethan had left in a hurry, possibly to make sure that his beloved went unharmed. He was a close second when it came to entertaining her it seemed, his ice weapons made a gory scene enough to satisfy her. He did not care if he entertained her, but as long as he was on her good side he would give her a small show.

The new wave came at him just as foolishly as the last had as though they believed he would be felled so easily. He ducked under a sword swing before shield bashing upward, causing the man to be lifted into the air by his god-like strength. The soldier did not have time to return to earth as Dagold blade met the man's waist, cutting him in half as blood spilled all over Dagold's armor. Dagold kicked the man's upper body at another opponent, knocking him back long enough for Dagold to lunge forward and shove his sword into the side of the man's neck before before the blade through his windpipe, half severing his head before grabbing his head and ripping it the rest of the way off to throw at another. This soldier put his shield up and repelled the head without effort, only to lower his shield to be run through with an ice triton.

Dagold met another with his sword, piercing his abdomen and ripping upwards to pulling the blade out of his mouth. He grabbed the man's spear and put it through the jaw off another before decapitating him and throwing the spear, head still attached, into the heart of another. He grew tired of this battle, the rain drops around him becoming razors as they shredded and maimed the remaining soldiers in the area.

He heard battle cries of one of the norse children, the daughter of thor it sounded like as they sang their battle song. It did little for him, but every norse child within earshot were given a second wind under its call.

He took one last look toward Runa to ensure she hadn't been attacked before taking off to find Sethan, knowing exactly where he would be. As he ran across the rooftops he arrived just in time to find Sethan butchering the last of her assialants.

She lied about her injuries, he could see she was losing a lot of blood through needle point holes. She was a healer and knew of these injuries all to well. Her herbal healing was great for a man in a bed but this would require far more direct methods. He jumped down after their small chat.
"I am sorry to interupt cousin, but lady Calandra is losing a lot of blood. I can heal small wounds like that easily, but I need direct permision from those I am healing."

---------------------------

Raxus was in a daze with fear it seemed as Jamie felt him grab her and run. She kept up with him thanks to Dagold's intense endurance training but let out a small surprised gasp when he suddenly stopped. Cassandra was trying to find safety as well and the pair had no problem accepting her.

As Raxus pulled them through the town Jamie could see all the warriors rushing into battle, cries of victory erupting from the front lines but who's they were would be unknown until she heard which horn sounded the end of the battle.

They were pulled into the woods by Raxus as she realized how strong he actually was. She had trouble keeping her footing as he pulled her through the woods. Granted her body was incredibly light but the spped at which he pulled the two women showed he could truly hurt someone if he mustered the courage to fight.

As Raxus finally set them down and broke down crying she sat down next to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It"s alright big guy, you got us out of there safely. You did good." Her comforting words had to end at that as they heard multiple footsteps coming in their direction. Jamie stood and drew her sword and pulled her shield from its resting place on her back.

The wind, rain, and booming thunder gave little vision in the woods, her matted down hair getting in her eyes as she pushed it behind her ear. Her sword burned with fire as her energy channeled into it, waiting for whatver was there. She heard them talking, and were coming right towards them. She looked down at Raxus, he was useless right now, he couldn't think straight. She looked up at Cassandra, she could defend herself but wouldn't do well in a fight against a group. 'great,' she thought, 'I'm the closest thing to a warrior here.'

Her thought were interupted by the loud, surprised shreik she let out as an axe flew at his head. She ducked under the swing as the axe stuck in the tree next to her long enough for her to drive her burning blade into the man's heart. As he dropped to the ground several others showed up. She Parried a sword with her shield and sliced the throat of it's swinger, the flaming blade immediatly burning the wound and his throat shut, causing him to fall to the ground, suffocating before she finished him off.

She looked up just in time to block a large mace with her shield, which sent her flying into a tree. She screamed on the impact and fell to the ground weakly as she looked up at the men. She was being overwhelmed, she couldn't handle them all in this state.
Edited by tyrade, 26 Feb 2011, 00:06.
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Lord Synical
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Sethan

Sethan stood vigilant at his beloved's side, her honeyed tone sweet music to his ears even in the thrill of war. His heart raced, a drum of war accompanying his brutal methods. It urged him on, demanding his efforts to slake its unending thirst for blood, dehydrating already from the lack of conflict, he could feel the itch to engage in glorious slaughter rising within him, but he suppressed it in the same breath - Calandra's presence an elixir for his battle lust. Fixing her features in his mind, he felt himself relax minutely, left hand awash with streams of blood lifting to cup the delicate flesh of her pale check, calloused thumb stroking along her upper bone beneath her enticing eyes as a faint smile graced those terrible, gore-painted features.

His ears alerted him to another approaching and it was recognition alone that halted his reflex assault, registering the footfalls of his cousin as the swordsman landed nearby, blonde locks soaked to his face by the rain. No doubt he had been maximising Zeus' fury to his purpose. Clasping Dagold's forearm in a warrior's handshake, he nodded to the other man before acknowledging his offer of aid, sunray hues shifting back to Calandra, "The battle fares well from what could be seen. We will return to aid the others soon, but first, you must take healing - we will need your arrows and your songs, my beloved, if we are to be victorious in this venture."

A glance was given heavenward, then shot over his scarred shoulder, towards the forbidding entrance to the blackened woods of the mountain. Raxus was in there, he could feel it, as if a line of twine tying him faintly to his younger sibling. He could almost see his brother, trembling and terrified. He would need to wait a time longer to go to his aid, no matter what he wished, in order to protect Elysium. Shifting his stance, he turned back to his companions when a flash of movement caught his eyes, a coming and going that seemed more a trick of vision than true fact.

"Did you...?" He began haltingly, cutting himself off as he realised Dagold would be attending Calandra's wounds. No, he would not throw a dark light on their auspicious night. Their battle was going well, that was what mattered - whatever came next, furore and the carrion call to war would answer with righteous force. Lifting his right hand, he conjured a flame in his palm to allow Dagold better light for healing, smiling soothingly to his heart in conjunction. She was safe with the two warrior demi-gods present, he would not allow her to doubt that.

Nothing could harm her with the son of war and heir of the tides at her side.


Raxus

The howling wind held no interest to Raxus, sequestered within a small clearing alongside his harried female companions, soft features pressed into the surprisingly rough palms of his hands. His shoulders trembled, though from fear or rage, it was impossible to fathom. Within his mind, however, roiled a maelstrom of thought - cascading from extreme to the other but maintaining a permanent sense of despair that consumed him in his entirety, 'Stay away from us...' He begged in the solitude of his subconscious, eyes squeezed shut, 'We never did anything to deserve this!'

A crack of twigs and brush of leaves caused him to bow his head further and the sound of cold steel scraping the harsh leather of a scabbard made him whimper inaudibly, 'Why must you be so cruel?' The cry of Jamie's charge sent a shiver of dread down his spine, chilling him to the core as he heard the sound of a throat slit, a heavy thud belonging to an armoured foe, not one as small and petite as Hades' daughter.

The brambles about his legs felt oddly comforting despite their stinging thorns, a remnant of familiarity in a suddenly cruel and terrifying world. The brambles, like him, appeared innocent and weak - yet their grasp was agony if not handled with care. Was that how he was? A cloak of gentle inconspicuousness hiding a monster within? Thunder rumbled above, 'No,' he thought suddenly, 'I am the brother of Sethan. I'm no monster.'

He winced when he heard the sudden crack of a shield and Jamie's scream, his fragile courage shattering like glass in the face of true power. A gruff voice muttered something in a language he didn't comprehend and, for the sake of his curiosity, Raxus shifted his trembling palms from his water-slicked features to stare into the face of a leering, stale-breathed soldier with his blade held in his hand, a cruel smile upon greasy, unkempt features that belied a terrible fate.

'He's going to kill me,' was the first despairing thought that raced through his mind, his heart thundering in his chest whilst the man lifted his sword, 'I'm going to die. Sitting here, staring into his eyes. He's going to kill me!' A whimper escaped him and the Italian paused, tilting his head before releasing a loud roar of laughter, echoed by his comrades. A sudden flash of agony burned upon the right side of Raxus' face and he suddenly found himself face down upon the earth, cheek pressed to some unforgiving thorns whilst the looming spectre of death approached, the silvered sword gleaming as it anticipated its next feast.

'At least make it quick,' he thought in silent desperation, eyes fixed in terror on his larger-than-life assailant, 'let me die without pain.' He flashed his gaze to the three companions eyeing something else and followed their dirty gazes. Cassandra, and Jamie. They were eyeing the girls with... desire? Evil. They had evil in their eyes. His heart stopped, he heard nothing, he saw only the look of true devilry in their filthy eyes and something within him, something that had been at his core since birth, erupted into a roar of primordial rage and thunderous fury, "No."

A crack of lightning lit the clearing and when it vanished, as did the son of Zeus. Blinking, his would-be murderer came up short, staring in confusing at the bush before one of his men jeered, pointing to the still form of the demi-god, head down as if regarding the grass, silvered hair hanging wetly over his eyes. One of them moved forwards, the lightning cracked, his eyes went wide and he screamed. Raxus was gone; and with him, the soldier's arm.

The others stared wide-eyed and backed up, huddling together in standard formation, wary, searching the blackness of the forest. Another lightning strike lit the earth beneath them and their screaming companion went silent, his head separated from his body and corpse thrown to the edge of the clearing. They had begun to panic now, when Raxus appeared again - standing before them, in the centre alongside, his lips moving and his words, though quiet, piercing the raging tempest that soaked the earth, "You are evil men, you act on the providence of a just God and slaughter those you deem unfit for your dominion - yet you are evil men, with evil intentions. Evil is wrong."

His head lifted, a bolt of lightning ripped from the clouds to strike his hair and his grey eyes sparked with energy, blazing white with power, "You are abominations!" The authority in his voice was not solely his, a double-timbre of power that resonated with a deeper, more imposing force - and then there was death. A speed and ferocity thought possessed only by the elder of the siblings displayed, Raxus' movements were as fluid as water, as swift as lightning and his strikes echoed like the roaring thunder of the storm.

Each impact shattered bone in a flash of electric force, each movement echoed the flow and bend of light on the earth; the soldiers fought, blades whined to be met by air, armour rendered useless beneath a punch like a steel sledgehammer, cracking spines, shattering limbs. The youth's right hand raised and energy erupted like the claw of reckoning, sending armour and flaming flesh in all directions.

The leader stood last amidst the torn and mutilated bodies of his brethren and turned to flee, the boy's hands falling to his sides. A final blaze of power from shining eyes, a thunderous bolt of lightning that came as if cast by the arm of Zeus himself, piercing the clouds to strike the earth in a gruesome show of divine intervention, sending the would-be killer to the depths of his hell.

"It is finished." The double-timbre faded, the eyes returned to their stormy grey and the child fell forwards, face first to land unceremoniously amidst the blood-slicked leaves and torn limbs of his mortal foes, sleeping, unconscious and blissfully unaware of the world about him, lost amidst the flow of dreams and clouds of Olympus, sitting upon his father's knee and observing the world as the heir of the King.

'The son becomes the father; the father becomes the son. Rest now, my valiant child.'
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Double 'The Fun' Felix, Jul 10 2008
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And I just wanted to say that using different colors in your roleplaying posts is distracting and should probably be avoided unless your name is Lord Synical, because he is an exception. A big exception. To everything. Thanks. He's also batshit insane.
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Sashay
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Outnumbered, Calandra knew that refusal of Dagold's ministrations would likely get her no where, despite how insignificant she felt her own injuries were and how little they needed care. Fussing hens, the both of them! The injuries were many, a stinging many, but not deep nor life-threatening as far as she was concerned; she'd survive for a good while yet without immediate care, though would likely not be at her best. Blood loss hadn't yet dulled her senses, but the cool of the rain was already at war with the warmth of her internal temperature.

Given the disgruntled, yet ire-less look that usurped one of fearful uncertainty upon her delicate face, it was clear enough that she felt comfortable in their presence; safe enough, at least, to concentrate on something other than the mutilations around her - namely that she would need to submit to their well-meaning fawning.

The sooner she relented and allowed it, she knew, the sooner they could be on their way to more important things. Sethan had asked it of her, and Apollo's daughter had difficulty denying him anything when he gazed at her so, when he flashed that charming smile. Therefor, with little fanfare beyond a pointed stare from those green eyes tossed between the both of them to communicate her reluctance, the healer gave an acquiescing bob of her head. "All right, do as you will," she freed one hand from her lyre to wipe vainly at the rivulets of water that trickled down her face, voice softening in apology. "Just be swift about it. There will be ample time to pluck the glass from my hide when this is finished."

Rather than replace the hand that had released the instrument Calandra coveted in the first place, she tucked the lyre snugly against her side and under one arm, instead raising and offering the opposing pale limb for the son of Poseidon in order to establish a point of contact.

Before the process could begin, however, that fiery-haired titan of a man had spoken and piqued her interest. "...Did he what?" Curiosity demanded she beg completion of Sethan's abandoned train of thought, eyes dancing between both demi-gods tentatively as though she felt there were something amiss. A strong connection to people lent itself to her instincts; very little got past her without notice.
A woman let me put my penis inside of her!

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Mal: Well look at this. Seems we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?
Zoe: Big damn heroes, sir.
Mal: Ain't we just.
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Dagold nodded and took her hand in his. "It was so kind of Zeus to provide me with all this water." He said as water collected on his arm smoothly flowing from his hand to hers. The water formed into a thin armor like coat as it flowed smoothly up her arm, it washed away the blood, and as the galss fell to the ground it revealed only skin beneath the blood as it washed away, the wounds closing without trace under the water's healing flow.

The stream of water travelled across her back onto her left arm and repeated the process. All the glass embedded in her body made light 'tink' sounds as it hit the ground, pulled gently from her wounds as they closed.
Had Dagold only had a small amount of water to work with this would have taken much longer as he had to gradually run it over her whole body. However with the heavy rain fail he had a steady supply to heal her in less than thirty seconds. Dagold released Calandra's hand as the blood soaked water flowed off of her with the rest of the rain water.

Once he had finished healing her he stood and looked to Sethan. "I need to return to the front line to reinforce our man army. Get her to safety." His head immediatly perked up as he heard Jamie's scream. He looked back at Sethan with a worried look. "Preferably in the direction our siblings are in. I will be unable to aid both at once." Dagold leapt up onto a rooftop and returned to the battle.


-----------------

Jamie had hit her head hard against the tree, she silently cursed at herself for not grabbing her helmet, having not expected more than a social visit with Raxus. As her vision began to blur from the impact the only thing running through her mind was that she had to preotect them. These thoughts were intensified as Raxus was knocked to the ground. Her body wouldn't respond, her hand wouldn't close around her sword. She closed her eyes as she slipped into unconciousness. "I'm sorry guys, I couldn't protect you." She said, barely audible as she passed out.
Edited by tyrade, 26 Feb 2011, 01:09.
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Snow. There was always plenty of snow, and ice, and occasionally sleet on the mountainside. Even when Thor's lightning crackled and thunder boomed and the village was drenched in a downpour, where Sigga stood, there was an odd sense of calm. Despite the fact that the snow had reached almost blizzard-like proportions, Sigga stood outside of the small cabin that served as her outpost, frost beginning the gather on her eyelashes and her pale blonde hair.

Her blue-grey eyes caught the movements of the Christian soldiers far too late.

Damn! she cursed to herself, her usually cool composure broken for only a moment. The beauty of the raging blizzard must have distracted her from the approaching army. A sigh escaped her lips. Perhaps she needed to train more, down in the village, where her attention would stray so easily.

She was almost half-way into the valley when she heard Tora's horn blowing. It was a very distinct sound, particularly to another Norse demi-goddess, and her blue lips twisted into something of a smile. She did not live for battle, like the bloodthirsty Sethan or the blacksmith Dagold, but she could not help but love the thrill of drawing the blood of her enemies. It ran in her veins, she supposed, just as the ice and snow did. If only she had warned them earlier, battle might not have been engaged inside of the village itself.

She ran with surprising speed, her long legs and powerful strides covering the distance from the mountainside to the edge of the village in a short amount of time. As she left her snowy domain, the chilly aura surrounding her form turned the pouring rain in her immediate vicinity to a mixture of ice and hail. From the village, it would look like a piece of the mountaintop weather had detatched itself from the rest of the snow and was now hurtling in their direction.

Her first victim only turned in time to see a storm of ice barreling into him at full speed before Sigga's sword ran him through in a brief but effective kill. She barely even paused as she drew her weapon from its bloody sheath, her pounding footsteps alerting other soldiers around her to her presense. A group of about half a dozen rushed her, only for their weapons to be met with Sigga's sheild and three of their heads sliced clean off in one powerful stroke of her blade. The other three paused, looking unsure and hesistating for just long enough for Sigga to approach, enveloping them in her frosty aura. Their eyes widened as she slowed to a brisk walk, pushing past them as if they were little more than statues. All three of them fell to the ground, dead, their blood frozen solid in their veins.

Now she moved with purpose, the battle raging on around her, blood mixing with rain and mud. Something had caught her eye. Three of the younger demi-gods, running as if the devil himself was on their heels, headed for the woods. Again, she supressed a sigh. From the gore splattered about her, it was obvious that Sethan was far too busy destroying his enemies to come protect his younger brother. She hoped the three were not entirely defenseless -- it would take a while to fight her way through this mass of Christian soldiers.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she was knocked harshly to the side by an oncoming foe. Damn it all to Hades, she had become distracted and let her guard down again. Dazed, she only had moments to bring up her shield to stop the mace that came crashing down upon her. Despite being made of a light metal, the shield did not dent. It was strong, created by Dagold and fortified with her own frosty powers. With the sort of strength only the daughter of a giantess could possess, she pushed her assailant off her, never once uttering a battle cry, simply slicing the man's arm off. She did not even pause to observe as ice staunched the flow of blood from his arm, creeping into his veins and stopping his heart in short order.

She broke into a run again, headed in the direction where she had assumed the trio were going. As she neared the forest, she nearly tripped over her own feet as a bright flash of lightning lit up her gaze. Confusion flooded her. As far as she knew, Raxus had limitted control over the powers of Zeus, and unless the Greek god himself had descended to defend his son, she could not imagine how such an incredible display of power had come to pass.

She reached the forest, undergrowth freezing beneath her feet and leaves curling in on themselves, covered in a fine layer of frost. She was not even out of breath when she reached the site of the carnage, where the three were huddled like rabbits in a burrow. Gore was strewn everywhere, and some trees were split clean down the middle from lightning strikes. She only raised a brow, pulling back her chainmail coif to reveal her pale gold hair.

Blue-grey gaze scanning the scene, she noted that two of the teenagers were unconcious. Well, at least they weren't dead; she could still sense the tell-tale heat of life coming from their bodies. Jamie was out cold, this much she could tell from the cut on her head that was oozing blood. She wasn't quite sure what exactly was wrong with Raxus, and approached the three, staying far enough away to keep them out of range of the ice raining around her form. Sword and shield still in hand, she turned to Cassandra.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, her voice little more than a thin whisper after so many weeks of remaining silent.
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Screams rent the air all around the battlefield drawing a chuckle from Runa's lips. Dagold seemed to be putting on a small display for her after all. How unusual for the kindhearted man. Ever the protector of others, he thought he was keeping her safe somehow. It was such a worthless notion seeing as she had no problem whatsoever keeping herself safe in such a squabble.

The woman smiled and took up a battle stance like any of the others in the hillside, her dress clinging to her every curve from the rain. Her eyes sparked with excitement as one of the group made a move to strike across the middle. Without changing her footing, she dodged, leaning to her right so she could render a slash along the length of the mortals arm as it swept past. When he moved to strike again, she rolled away, a blood and mud mixture coating her once pristine red dress. Without pause, she lunged to bury her own blade in so called warrior's chest, puncturing his lung in the process.

Climbing back to her feet, she jerked the dagger to the side until it pierced bone, a wicked smile spread across her lips as she stared into his terror filled eyes. He tried to speak a last prayer to his Lord and Savior but couldn't gather the breathe to form words. All the more to cause her to laugh. She watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, letting his weight pull his body free of her favorite weapon.

Runa then turned to see how her cousin was fairing, wiping the blood off on her skirt. It took him only moments to wipe out the last of this latest wave of the pathetically named 'Holy Warriors'. When his eyes moved to check on her, she finally spoke to him. "Tell me, where is our dear cousin Sethan in all of this? I know you are tend to fight at his side and I also know he wouldn't miss a chance like this to unleash his fury."

Instead of answering her, he took off back to the village. Rage filled her eyes at having been ignored. Without any thought to those still fighting, she set off to follow him. Surely he wouldn't leave without good reason. She was certain he would go to the side of his good friend.

Of course, she was right, but this is not what she wanted to find. Her eyes darkened and her blood boiled as she took in the sight of both men aiding the daughter of Apollo. Sethan's love. The woman she hated most in this entire world. What in the name of Zeus did this warlord see in someone as gentle as the woman before her? She couldn't wrap her mind around it.

She kept to the shadows as she watched Dagold healing the only slightly injured woman. Why did the bother? That woman was a healer in her own right and those abrasions were only minor and would heal on their own, even if she hadn't been the daughter of a god. The things these men did in order to show their appreciation of the weaker females of their world was beyond her.





Cassandra stared at the poor boy. She sensed his emotions jumping from fear to despair then back to fear then anger. It was all she could do not to pull him into a tight hug to try and give him any sort of comfort possible to calm his soul. But those thoughts only lasted a moment as the rustling of limbs broke through the sounds of the storm. Soldiers from the battle had branched out looking for fleeing members of their village.

Instantly, Jamie had taken up arms to defend the two pacifists. She had been trained by her brother since a young age, but was still green to real battle as far as Cassandra knew. The dark haired woman knew nothing of hand to hand combat and would be useless to aid the younger girl. All she could do was shield the boy and hope the daughter of Hades could hold her ground till help reached them.

Unfortunately, the men made short work of the young woman, launching her into a tree. The impact rendering her useless. Cassandra moved to check on the girl, shifting her barrier to cover the unconscious girl. The action leaving a momentary opening when one of the men struck Raxus. She cursed herself for not being able to maintain two fields of protection at a time, but now was not the time to be worried about her weakness. She needed to try and figure a way to keep the others safe. But how? For once she actually wanted her sister near, even if her twin would enjoy slaughtering these men to the point of making her sick.

Cassandra tried to gather the mental strength to take hold of Jamie's sword when she heard the single word leaving Raxus' lips. She turned her head as a flash of lighting stunned their attackers. Deep blue eyes widened as the daughter of Eris watched the son of Zeus unleash his wrath on the mortals who's intentions he knew were less than pure. She had never seen the young man in such a state. It was as if he were possessed by some other force, and she was right. She could hear the second voice mixed with his own when he spoke to the men.

She hardly had time to realize what was happening as he took out each of their assailants, one by one. With a final declaration of 'It is finished', the boy fell to the ground unconscious.

What should she do now? There was now only her to keep these two safe until they were able to awaken again. Sparing not a minute, she dragged the boy to rest next to Jamie, putting up another barrier in case others were to come for them. She then checked to see if Raxus was injured but couldn't find any signs of anything that would have caused him to faint. Satisfied that he would be fine, she moved to check on Jamie. Blood was seeping from the girls head, forcing Cassandra to hurry. Such a wound could be serious if not taken care of quickly. She placed her right hand over the wound and her left over the girls eyes, closing her own to concentrate on forcing her own energy into the bleeding girl. She wasn't very practiced in healing others but had learned as a girl how her powers worked. The only problem with this is it weakened her if she had to do this too often. Runa. Dagold. Sethan. Where are you guys?

She had to keep her thoughts on what she was doing. If she broke her concentration, she wouldn't be able to heal the head wound successfully. Her thoughts only on her task, she never heard the approach of the frosty guardian of the mountains.
Edited by Cassandra, 26 Feb 2011, 02:34.
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Sethan

Eyes trailing over the wounded flesh of his beloved, Sethan's molten gaze softened as he regarded her lacerated body. With Dagold's ministrations, her wounds were regenerating at a steady rate, the various incisions caused by brutal glass and the glistening specks of transparent remnant washed away to glitter in the mud beneath the flashes of lightning. His body soaked and dried every second, Sethan had no need for proper clothing - he remained at his body temperature regardless of the weather, a gift from his father to better survive the harsh climates that came with war.

Calandra, however, was not so fortunate. Embraced by the chill of the night and lacking her furs or proper battle attire, she was quite clearly shivering within the blackened eve as he moved towards her, strong arms slipping around her smaller form to wrap her in a warming embrace, smothering the ice in her veins to be replaced by fire, perhaps scalding in its sudden arrival. He was not hot enough to burn her, but it would not be the first time he had made her perspire by proximity - though that could be accredited to other factors as well in those times of close contact.

Keeping her secure while she warmed, he nodded as Dagold looked to take his leave, unconcerned as his cousin sallied forth into the night to let battle be joined once more. Though the thirst grew more prominent, Sethan could resist its seductive roar, the clash of steel on steel that beckoned to his baser instincts. His keen hearing had spotted the lessening of the metallic chorus, the signs of battle coming to a close. It had taken time, but slowly, the fighting was becoming less and less frequent. Whether this was a positive or a negative had yet to be seen, but from the frequent flares of lightning and occasional flame, it appeared the defenders of both pantheons were fighting with their utmost.

As his wary oculars prowled for danger, a deafening lance of lightning caused his head to snap to the forest. A bright flash had illuminated the world entirely for but a moment and it had been far too purposeful to be merely a stroke of fate. His ears and eyes strained and another lighting strike struck home two minutes later, scattering his sense of realism to the wind. Could it be? Had Raxus learned to use his powers so suddenly? A gut instinct denied the thought, and as his eyes slid to the heavens, realisation dawned; Zeus would not allow his child so easy a death.

Lips parted to mouth a silent praise to the lord of light, wisdom and storms before his elegant limbs untangled from Calandra's body, her earlier enquiry coming to the fore as he pondered his answer, opting for truth as was his way, "I thought I perceived a shadow in movement, a wraith or other creature, but I must have been mistak--" It was at that moment that the large town hall at the centre of Elysium erupted upwards, exploding in torrential blast of fire and hurtled debris that had the warrior shielding Calandra, grunting at the impact of a flaming log to his shoulder, but relatively unphased - neither hit nor physical injury meant much to Sethan.

A wary glance caught sight of a second building erupting towards the heavens with a plume of flame, as if a flower in bloom, a morbidly beautiful sight despite its awesome destructive power. A single look was given to Calandra before his arm were gone and so too was he, racing through the pelting sheet of icy rain to the next house in line, when he saw it again - the faintest movement, as if a shadow or trick of the night. Instead of doubting, however, this time he acted; stepping up his speed and curving languidly around the building corner, daggertail deployed at full length to find only air, before being re-wrapped to his arm.

However, his battle instincts had taken over and primal sense told him he was not alone. Instead of look blindly, he allowed the darkness to envelop him. To fight nothing, one must be nothing. Emptiness, awareness, he projected his senses out from the self, touching the edges of the house with his consciousness, the earth, the distant trees, each blade of grass, the drops of rain that showered gaia's surface - and then he was moving, not a second too soon as a blade stabbed the air his throat had occupied but a breath earlier.

His curved blade, back in its left hand, snapped up to intercept a second stab, chain whip held tip-first in his right fist, head tilting this way and that to listen for distortions. An alternation in the fall of the rain alerted him this time, the drops turning uneven and louder as they fell upon the form of his assailant, to his rear. His hips shifted right and body curved, the blade slicing his side as his own stabbed backwards, into the exposed chest of his foe.

A moment's respite between movement before the enemy fell to their back, dead and Sethan looked down to where he had been cut. Probing fingers came back drenched in crimson as he moved with his ever-present frown to examine the black-garbed form of his enemy, marvelling at the array of weaponry visible just on their hips. Behind him, the faintest click caught his attention and his head whipped around to face the stone wall of the dwelling.

The building exploded.
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Double 'The Fun' Felix, Jul 10 2008
12:55 AM
And I just wanted to say that using different colors in your roleplaying posts is distracting and should probably be avoided unless your name is Lord Synical, because he is an exception. A big exception. To everything. Thanks. He's also batshit insane.
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tyrade
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A washing wave of blades annihalating another large group as Dagold landed in the center of them calmly as he looked at what was presumably the leader who tried to blow his horn for retreat. Dagold could not allow this, after seeing what these men had done to his village his blood was pumping for vengeance. His usual noble battle manner erased, an ice shard sliced the horn in two before it could get a note out. The two warriors locked eyes as they both donned spear and shield for a warriors end. This man seemed to have honor in his eyes, he wasn't the typical smash and grab crusader. If it weren't for his wish to destroy Dagold's people he would have a high respect for the man. He wished to fight him warrior to warrior to let this man die with the honor he seemed to hold dear.

The two charged each other, the enemy leader thrusting a spear at Dagold. Dagold took the spear in his shield, and the spear slightly pierced it allowing Dagold to break the spear with his forearm. Dagold thrust the spear forward, the cheap tip breaking on the man's armor, shoddy workmanship. His own make would have never done that.

Dagold smashed the man's helmet with the broken pole to give him time to draw his sword. They both drew blades and began a viscious melee. The man lunged his sword foraward leaving a shallow cut on Dagold's forehead as Dagold shield bashed him, breaking the spear head out of his shield. The general's sword glowed with holy power, he truly was backed by the god he followed. The two exchanged a series of fast paced, heavy blows. It was made clear this man had earned his position at the front, as he was trading blows evenly with Dagold. Dagold could have easily domolished him with his godly strength, but this was a battle of honor, not power. he wanted to win this battle on battle prowess alone.

The man wore heavy armor, causing most of the blows to glance. The man's mortal stamina was beginning to falter, and Dagold found his chance. As the man made a sideways swing for his neck, Dagold ducked under his blade and shoulder rammed the general's torso. The man stumbled off balance, regaining his compsure only long enough to see Dagold's blade as it sliced through his neck, decapitating him. As the general's body fell Dagold held up his head in his hand letting out a triumphant battle cry that could be heard throughout the village.

As the villagers looked at the demi-god holding the head of their leader, the liuetent sounded the retreat. All the soldiers that were still fighting went into panicked retreat as the enraged demi-gods cut them down as they fled. As they ran down the mountain Dagold allowed them to regroup in their retreat before giving them a final farewell. "Run you cowards! Run back to your god! For that is where I am sending you, your leader fought with honor while you run in fear making his sacrifice in vain! Now perish on the mountain you so rudely ausaulted!"

A wall of ice spiked shot from the wet ground in front of the retreating soldiers, impaling the first few rows of retreating enemies. A wall of water grew around Dagold as he raised his arms, and then pointed the water in their direction as countless razor blades of ice mixed with the rushing water, shredding those it didn't force into the spikes.

He turned to his fellow surviving warriors and raised an ice triton in his fist with a battle cry of victory, the warriors returning it just as valiently.
This man was well trained, and gave Dagold a run for his money.


-------------


Jamie felt a hand on her head as she slipped in and out of conciousness. She could hear another woman's voice, and the air around them had suddenly grown cold. Was she dead? She could see Cassandra in front of her, and began to fear the worst. Had she failed to protect them and they were all now in her father's realm? Her hand moved slowly to her head, she was bleeding? She felt the weight of her shield on her left arm, and the bruising on her forearm from the impact. She was alive? How? Her groggy eyes looked around in a haze: Raxus was unconcious, Cassandra was healing her wound and the mountain gaurdian was standing near them. "Did you save us?" She asked weakly, her breathing came slowly, and her head was killing her. She couldn't think clearly, but thought to make sure her sword was at her side. She let out a smile sigh of relief as she smiled weakly at Cassandra.
Edited by tyrade, 26 Feb 2011, 05:48.
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It seems every serial killer is someone you least expect, meaning we are safest around those we expect to kill us
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Sashay
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Though resistant to it at first, Calandra was soon grateful for the soothing relief of Dagold's magic water, an involuntary sigh leaving her lips as each shard of glass leaped free of her skin and fell to the ground with a series of chimes. It was a strange sensation, perhaps not entirely unlike the effect of her music might feel to one receiving its bolstering sounds. She could never be sure, the lyrical boon all but wasted on herself - she felt nothing beyond the melody itself; it worked only on the ears of others. It wasn't inconceivable to speculate that she had begun study of all things medicinal for more than simply selfless reasons, but it certainly helped that her father governed those arts as well.

Flesh knit beneath the unnaturally flowing current, all imperfections rendered undone by this demi-god's aquatic proficiency. When finished, she twisted the arm he held as if to better observe the posterior and marveled at Dagold's aptitude. "Incredible work," the healer had to give credit where it was due, a delighted smile surfacing in contrast with their dire surroundings. She must remember to request his aid in the infirmary in future, it was an invaluable skill.

When Sethan stepped near and swept her into his arms without a word, Calandra had not even been aware that she was shivering, had not yet acknowledged the cooling consequence of the water both descending from above and willed over her by Poseidon's offspring. If there had been any part of her not thoroughly drenched, there was none now. So when her slight frame was gathered against Sethan's larger, bloodied form, the heat he radiated was startling enough to catch her breath. But she gave no resistance, instinctively pressing close and coiling her arms about his torso, her cheek laid to his chest, drawn to the warmth like a chilled snake to the radiant, life-giving sun. She reveled in it, his inner fire banishing the ice which had set within her limbs; being a child of Ares held benefits, and though there had been situations where she resented that calidity he possessed, she was exponentially grateful as each moment passed in his grasp.

It was at that moment, too, that she noticed their observer. Runa, daughter of Eris, she who celebrated strife, a harbinger the brutal and the blood-thirsty. If there were a woman more Calandra's polar opposite than she, she would be quite surprised. That piercing ruby gaze was leveled in her direction, and Apollo's kin had no doubt as to why. That Runa hated her had not gone beyond her notice; even if she were daft and adddle-minded, the other woman's malice would have been as obvious as the lightning above them. That she might resent Sethan's adoration for the healer girl had never even crossed her mind, something to her that seemed impossible to contest. In truth, part of Calandra hated her as well, though she would never admit it publicly. She detested the discord around them, Runa was probably enjoying it.

Tearing her own sage-colored eyes away when Sethan finally released her, she listened to his honeyed-thunder of a voice, comforted away from ill thoughts against the malevolent demi-goddess by his proximity alone. "I thought I perceived a shadow in movement, a wraith or other creature, but I must have been mistak--" he began, though never had the chance to finish, a concussive blast forcing his priorities elsewhere: Calandra's safety. The explosion that sent a hail of detrius their way touched her naught, the brunt shouldered by her guardian. Around them, fire licked at the sky as another building detonated in the distance.

She was given plenty of cause for alarm, unnecessary as it was for the son of a war god, and yet she could not give voice to protest when he freed himself from her. He had given her a look, one she knew immediately meant that he had to heed the call, and she was left staring in the wake of his exit.

"--shadow in movement, a wraith," Sethan had speculated. But if that were the case, were they allies with the christian invaders, or were they simply seizing a moment of opportunity in Elysium's perceived weakness? A confusing series of events, to be sure, but Calandra could not waste the time debating them while enemies still lingered around every corner. Clinging faithfully to her lyre, sandaled feet took to the street and carried the nymphish woman through the valley of carnage. She stopped only long enough to collect new armaments, spotting a discarded bow laying beneath one particularly mutliated corpse. She rolled the body onto its stomach with one foot, grimacing, and pilfered both the shortbow and quiver of arrows from his back, muttering disquietedly about the senseless squandering before slinging the leatheren case over her shoulder.

Around her, infernos raged unhindered by the cascade of water from heaven in many of their newly-erected buildings, desolation and destruction reigning supreme. When she lifted her gaze to take stock of the surroundings, only devastation filled her soul and grief threatened to herald tears. Their lives, everything they had fought for and built was gone; only catastrophic rubble and refuse remaining where once proud structures had stood solid, fewer buildings remained intact than there were demigods in residence. The damage was widespread and none had been spared a loss of some kind, be it material or emotional. Had this been the goal all along? Not to butcher her cohorts, but to punish them for the impudence that they might exist freely?

Anger and outraged threatened to overwhelm her, sorrow for what had been lost held in abeyance by rage. Let them come, she snarled inwardly, spinning in search of engagement, a vengeful fire burning in her heart as it had never done before. And yet, she found none. Baffling, but no combatant approached to spill her blood, no rampaging party met her gaze with cries of war; there was nothing. She caught movement from the corner of her eye and lunged toward it, long legs making quick work of the distance, but it fled from her in the same strides. In every direction, she realized, were the armored forms of the enemy making an organized, unified retreat in the absence of their leader.

"You cannot run!" she cried in frustration, setting the lyre aground and raising the stolen bow in one hand. Collecting a single arrow from those that rested at her spine, she nocked the missile against the string and pulled back with an expert's draw. The weight was greater than she was used to, and yet she found no difficulty altering her aim to compensate for the dart's expected trajectory. Before she could let fly this harbinger of death, however, a building in the distance exploded with an brillaint conflagration. Her heart sank; she knew that construct, Sethan had disappeared toward it. Abandoning her cause without a second thought, she eased the taut drawstring and shouldered the arrow, collecting the lyre at her feet and bolting toward the massive fire.

Above, the snap of lightning and the bone-jarring rumbles of thunder occurred with less frequency, the wrathful storm slacking with the withdrawal of the invaders. Those gods and goddesses of nature's fury no longer feared for the safety of their descendants, it seemed, danger passed as the enemy gave up. A muted grey filtered in to replace inky cumulonimbus with paler striations, the pounding assault of rain dissipating to only a steady drum, glorius beams piercing the canopy in places to shed light upon the destruction.

Elysium was in ruins.
Edited by Sashay, 26 Feb 2011, 07:23.
A woman let me put my penis inside of her!

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Once the woman coveted by Sethan was healed, Dagold took his leave to head back to return to the fray. At that point, she felt her anger reach a new high as Sethan pulled his woman protectively into his arms. Using his own heat to warm her freezing flesh. He held her as though she were the most precious being on this planet as she lifted her hands to rest on his well built chest as a lover would.

The sight sickened Runa. The entire thing made her desire for bloodshed grow. She wanted to lash out at the two of them. Kill the woman and possibly her precious warrior. Of course, he wouldn't go down that easily. The son of Ares would never fall to her hand, this she knew. But she was enraged enough to try her damnedest. Why would he want Calandra over herself?

An explosion sounded just down the road from them, sending Sethan back into action, leaving his defenseless lover alone. She had thought to follow after him, but then another thought struck her. Her eyes darkened, narrowing on the woman before her. Head tilting as she let her almost demonic gaze took in her new pet project. No matter what it took, she would find a way to pry these two apart.

If she were to actually harm the precious Calandra, she would surely be killed. Sethan would never allow any harm to come to this woman as long has they still possessed feelings for each other. No. She would have to get creative with this new task. Work her way into their lives more directly and tear them apart from the inside. Decimating their love, leaving absolutely no shred to ever grow again.

A slow grin spread across her lips. Yes, she would befriend this wretch only to destroy her. She would follow Calandra, making sure to keep her safe. If she didn't at least do that, the plan would fail. Sethan would never trust the chaotic woman with his love unless he felt she would truly protect her. Runa needed something traumatic to happen and fast so she could earn her in.

Moments after Sethan had went to search out the cause of the explosion, Calandra had headed to the battlefield. It seemed oddly out of character for the healer. Could it really be this easy? Runa kept ever close, yet out of sight as she trailed her new charge. Waiting for her moment, but for some reason all the Christian soldiers seemed to be falling back to where ever they had sprung from. What was the meaning of this? Would she be denied her opportunity already?

"You cannot run!" Screeched the fragile demi-goddess as she took aim with a bow. Runa waited expectantly for any of the many warriors heed her call and return to fight the pathetic woman when another explosion shook them. Abandoning her attempt at an attack, Calandra rushed back to what was left of their once proud home. Worry flooding her that Sethan could have been harmed.

Runa shook her head in disgust. Did that woman no nothing? The son of Ares wouldn't be slain by something as trivial as a building detonating. Shaking her head, she followed back to the fiery destruction that awaited them.



Cassandra's energy slowly drained out of her and she felt stirring beneath her hands. It was working! Her eyes opened to see Jamie slowly waking up, checking her head wound and looking around to confirm she was really alive. Without a word, she continued to work until the bleeding ceased the wound was finally closed.

A feeling of exhaustion swept over her and a heavy sigh left her lips. She leaned her back against the tree Jamie's head had stuck for support, resting her hands on her knees before finally acknowledged Sigga's earlier question. "I will be fine. They never had the chance to reach me. It seems our dear Raxus here is protected by the king of the Gods himself." She laughed at the irony. Here she had been so worried about how she was going to keep him safe and yet he was the vessel for their salvation.

"Tell me, how fairs the battle and our brethren? Is the village safe?" She stared up at the older woman hoping for a favorable answer, but had a feeling things were not what they would want. She could hear the sounds of an explosion coming from their home and had an overwhelming feeling of loss that could not be explained. Something horrible had taken place.
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Sethan

The smouldering wreckage of the once-proud dwelling illuminated the dawn-touched earth with flickering tongues of red and gold, dancing in fitful intimacy as they cast a companioning shimmer to the twilight rays that marked the approach of the sun, Apollo's chariot starting its inevitable blaze across the star-dappled sky. Amidst the burning debris and scattered embers flickering feebly against the faint drizzle that poured like a transparent film over the entirety of ruined Elysium, a mane of crimson hair shifted, its owner's body rising from the muddied grass with a stagger, blood trailing down from his ears like rivulets of water, intermixed with rain in a faint wash of colour.

Staggering from the ruin to blearily survey his home, blinking rapidly in an attempt to fix his vision, temporarily half-blinded by the light of the explosion. His left arm hung limply at his side, emaciated by detritus, its length covered in pieces of masonry and splinters that stuck from his flesh in a gruesome display of agony. His right arm came up to wipe soot and blood from his eyes, brushing the large laceration on his hairline, digits dyed scarlet from the glistening blood intermingled with grime and mud. His side maintained its gruesome gash, flooded with dark matter and blood in equal degree.

Standing there in the rain, lamplight hues scanned the scene of desolation with emotionless analysis - until they came to rest upon the smouldering remains of a charred home, a single small figure laying face down before it, dress tattered and flesh blistered as the fabric smoked from the smothering grasp of the rain suffocating the hungry flames. Abruptly he screamed in rage and denial, leaping into a bolt across the distance that separated them, eyes glistening with free-flowing tears; legs pumping to propel him down in a slide of his knees to the body's side, his arms - regardless of the spout of blood from the effort of moving his left - turning the body over with delicate attention.

Unseeing once-blue eyes gave witness to the heavens, blonde hair splayed as if a halo around her burn-scarred features. His fingers trembled, his form shuddered and he hesitantly lifted her right hand. Her rings were there, one for each; a ruby for Sethan, a diamond for Raxus. Red and White. Their hair. His cheek was a smoke-stained mask of agony, tears cutting a swathe through the grit and grime to drop from his chin onto her lifeless body. Desiccated flesh held little repulsion for him, instead owing a kind of morbid peace to her near-sleeping figure. She had gone to the Underworld, to the dominion of his uncle; Hades.

His hands sought to grasp her, but no effort to move her was made, as if the ability to shift her weight had fled him, the strength that had always filled his blessed limbs scarce now, in his hour of greatest need. A slow sob rose in his throat and his lips parted, mouth down-turned in emotional suffering before he wailed, a feverish denial to the world, rising to a howl of rage, intermixed with the agony of a smog-stained larynx, vocals fading in and out of tangibility in concordance with the damage to his voice. It blood flowed from a corner of his mouth and his hands reached up to grasp and tear at his hair, fingers fisting into the blood-coloured locks as if the pain of their parting from his scalp could dull this horror; his nightmare.

Death rocked on his knees, his spine scarred and flesh burned and scorched, sliced and cut and bleeding in more places that any normal human could survive. Wounded, pained, every movement spouting blood - none of it compared to this monument of woe, this hellish, sick jest. His mother was dead, the warm and beautiful woman who had nurtured he and his brother from birth and shown them more love and affection than either deserved, this harmless flower of the earth had been slain while fleeing her trapped home. He had let it happen, had failed to kill the wraith that he had detected. It was his fault. His fault.

He threw his head back and screamed.
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Double 'The Fun' Felix, Jul 10 2008
12:55 AM
And I just wanted to say that using different colors in your roleplaying posts is distracting and should probably be avoided unless your name is Lord Synical, because he is an exception. A big exception. To everything. Thanks. He's also batshit insane.
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The explosions were easy to hear, even from the sheltered center of the forest. The heat given off by the fires were like beacons to Sigga, and she felt her heart plummet. These signs could only mean that destruction on a massive scale had taken place. She did not know what she would find when they headed back to the village.

The demi-goddess waited patiently as Cassandra did her best to heal Hades' daughter. The rain about them began to slow, as did the sounds of battle from the village. Either the demi-gods had been defeated, or their assailants were leaving. She prayed that it was the latter.

"Did you save us?"

The question caught Sigga off-guard. She blinked, her blue-grey eyes settling on the barely-concious form of Jamie, but she did not answer, instead letting the girl's friend continue to heal her. Scanning the surrounding trees, Sigga slowly replaced her shield on her back and her sword in her sheath, barely acknowledging the blood spatters on the bright white of the fur that covered her armor.

Now that the immediate danger appeared to have lessened, the drizzle that fell about Sigga's imposing form no longer turned to ice as it passed through her cold aura. It took a considerable amount of effort for her to rein the frost that ran so freely through her blood in -- it was another one of the reasons why Sigga rarely approached the other demi-gods. She couldn't get too close without risking giving them frostbite. Well, all except for Sethan, anywho.

"I will be fine. They never had the chance to reach me. It seems our dear Raxus here is protected by the king of the Gods himself. Tell me, how fairs the battle and our brethren? Is the village safe?"

So, it seemed that Raxus had indeed causing the carnage around her. How incredibly strange. The boy could barely stand the thought of combat, let alone be any use in a real battle. She looked at his unconcious form, pale brows furrowed. Pursing her blue lips, she finally straightened, and in one word, answered both Cassandra and Jamie's questions:

"No."

She did not pause to watch for their reactions. Instead, the daughter of the giantess of the mountains bent down and scooped up Raxus, tossing him over her shoulder like a sack of potatos. This was where the furs came in handy. They were not there to keep Sigga warm; she never had a problem with the cold, it was her element. The furs functioned more as an extra layer between her armor and frozen skin that kept any of the other demi-gods or goddesses from making direct contact with her. She only hoped that after soaking in the rain so long the boy would not get hypothermia from being so near her.

He was heavy, but she was strong. Being the daughter of a giantess had its perks now and then. It was clear, however, that she would not be able to bear his weight for long before she would have to put him down. Luckily, the village was not particularly far away. In another fluid motion, Sigga reached down and picked up Jamie as well, the petit demi-goddess adding next to no weight to the mountain guard's burden. She did not wait for Cass to respond, and when she spoke again, her words were a cool order.

"If you can walk, follow me. If not, I'll come back for you." With that, she turned on a heel and began a brisk walk back towards the decimated town, the pale gold of dawn beginning to shine on her silvery blonde hair.
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