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| Ogre Problem | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 18 2009, 08:36 AM (775 Views) | |
| Trostia | Jun 18 2009, 08:36 AM Post #1 |
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jesus is my friend
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The barren, windswept and rocky slopes of the Blood Hills provided an endless vista of desolation. Rise after rise, nothing grew on the hills other than tiny, stubborn bushes and twisted, struggling stumps. Boulders and rocks scattered everywhere provided plenty of cover, however, and this let the ogre band making their way along the twisting paths one freezing, foggy morning get flanked and ambushed. Leading the trudging 8 defenders was a hulking ogre wearing ragged, dark robe and undergarments that were more numerous than was standard amongst ogres. He was of indeterminate age and around his neck wore a string of small, unidentifiable skulls. He walked more stiffly than the rest, leaning on a short wooden staff. Despite his aging ears he sensed the ambushers first, not through sound but through his piercing intuition and natural tendency for pessimistic outcomes. This was a bad place to be ambushed, so naturally it happened here. Shadows cast by rising figures along the adjacent ridge showed at least two dozen other ogres, while out from behind boulders ahead of them another six appeared. The largest of these was a powerful warrior, a well-known chieftain by the name of Iron Claw. He walked, using the knuckle of one of his hands as Ogres tended to do, navigating the treacherous path in a casual manner. Then he stood and bellowed his challenge to the nearly surrounded ogres. "Ha! I know of your Clan! You foul our lands with your trespass! Before you are punished, know that it is I, Iron Claw, who will crush your skull beneath my feet" Then he grinned, showing his array of considerably sharp and chipped fangs. In his free hand he carried a hefty spiked club and he brandished it threateningly. But the ogres did not attack, instead eagerly waiting for their seemingly helpless victims to say something, maybe to try to flee or bargain their way out of this, or simply to put up a useless but honorable show of force. The robed ogre stopped and lifted his head at the newcomer. He focused a pair of red eyes on him as his hood fell back. Then he too grinned and lifted his short staff in his free hand. "I know who you are," said the hand's owner in a deep, sinister voice that, while not loud, somehow managed to carry. "By the end of this day, your females will be mine, and your warriors will follow me or accompany you in death! You are a fool, and a coward, and a weakling who doesn't deserve to lead your clan!" There was a pause and then Iron Claw roared with genuine rage as he charged. He easily had two hundred pounds on the older ogre.... but he hadn't been prepared for a true ogre-mage. No one had seen their kind perform anything but petty tricks or shamanistic magics in ages. But the ogre-mage raised his cudgel-like staff and pointed the end at his attacker. Still grinning nastily, revealing old, cracked fangs. Then suddenly a translucent, wispy darkness - like a gauzy glove - appeared surrounding the staff hand, and it grew, pulsating obscenely like a birthing larva, darkening as it did until it was pitch black. Then, all within a few seconds, the blob of dark energy raced out along the staff until it hit Iron Claw in the face and disappeared. The massive warrior's eyes bulged as he stumbled to a halt. There was a sudden silence except for a faint choking sound. Soon Iron Claw's veins stood out, throbbing with his heartbeat, and his legs and arms, their muscles pulled taut, began to quiver as if under great strain. He struggled to remain standing, his pupils massively dilated, all fight taken out of him. Then his struggle seemed to go worse, and he collapsed to his knees amidst the sharp rocks and rubble, and finally the choking ended and he let out a massive, long, ululating howl of pure agony. The howl seemed to go on for an eternity, and then was cut short as Iron Claw now made gurgling, drowning sounds. Suddenly there was a wet 'pop' and blood vessels in his eyes, nose, ears, face, neck and all along his arms seemed to burst open at once. Dark blood, literally steaming-hot, splashed quickly onto the ground a moment before the great ogre's body crashed down. The ogre-mage turned his head to look at the others, the ones on the ridge, then the three other warriors who stood, stunned, looking at their fallen leader's corpse. His staff glowed darkly, menacingly. "Are there any who will challenge me?" he shouted into the cold air. "For I am Ulgar, Chieftain of these Lands! Follow me, and I will show you victory! Oppose me and die! Which do you choose?" Some chose one way, some chose another. But it was Ulgar who returned to his mountain stronghold, to consort with his vizier, the emissary. OOC: I am looking for someone to play the role of this emissary, who should be a powerful and evil mage or necromancer or something. He should be human or tiefling or at least not ogre. This character is an 'emissary' of a mysterious and as-yet unidentified power, but probably something like a demon or ancient monster who is supplying Ulgar with gifts of power (like his staff) as well as 'advice' on how to get more. |
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| Flawless Cowboy | Jun 18 2009, 10:23 AM Post #2 |
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The emissary was in reality a lich named Graal, his true name had long since been lost in the flows of time. His skin was caught in a state of decay, but did not rot away like it should. His eyes had long since rotted away, and had two orbs that constantly changed color took their place. He wore a black robe with ancient runes sewn into it, they were red and ocasionally seemed to twist. He spoke in an emotionless voice that seemed to echo from far away and chill the bones of the living. When Ulgar returned the lich spoke,"Ah Ulgar, you have returned. Have you been enjoying the gifts the master has given you? Well I hope you enjoy them, for I have another." He reached into his robes and pulled out a glove made of obsidian with a large eye in the center of the palm. "This is an anti-magic glove. It holds the central eye of a beholder, and shall allow you to create an antimagic field in whatever direction or area you please. Enemy mages shall no longer be a threat to you." Secretly he resented the ogre, however, he was easy to twist and would be a vauluable asset for his master. |
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| Trostia | Jun 18 2009, 06:18 PM Post #3 |
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jesus is my friend
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Ulgar clambered into his thick hide tent just as the night began to settle and the temperature plummeted. Not surprised to find the Emissary waiting there - somehow, the Emissary always knew where to be. The hulking brute stooped to take the obsidian glove from the emissary. At first it seemed too-small: but then he realized it fit his hand perfectly. He used his own magics to try and pierce the darkness surrounding this one and could not. He nodded approvingly. "With your master's gifts," he said in a rumbling baritone, "All the Clans come together. It be dark time for those who not Ogre." His eye focused on the rotting corpse-like face of the Emissary. "Or not ally of Ogre," he said in correction. Ulgar wondered, not for the first time since their partnership, who the emissary's true master really was... and if they knew just what a mighty and terrible force amongst the usually-disjointed ogre clans they were helping to create. |
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| Flawless Cowboy | Jun 18 2009, 08:23 PM Post #4 |
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If the lich could smile, he would, the ogre was the perfect pawn. Graal believed that now would be the time to set things in motion for the return of his master. He spoke,"Now would be a good time for you to reuite the clans, you are strong and they are weak. I suggest you begin a campaign to unite the clans within the next day or so. With enough backing you could take the capitol and become a ruler of ogre-kind, your name will be spoken with praise for generations to come." Graal's dark magic had been worked into those words, and he knew the ogre, even though he were a powerful mage, would have little chance to resist the prospect he had proposed. |
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| Trostia | Jun 19 2009, 12:29 AM Post #5 |
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jesus is my friend
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"Capitol! Pfah!" Ulgar spat. "It be weakling-ogres huddling behind broken walls! They not be problem. Problem other Clans, large Clans with many warriors. This be war of fists. But I have plan." He smiled slyly as he settled his enormous rear onto the ground. He pointed a clawed finger at the emissary. "Ulgar not need be told by you to make war." He looked away, as if gazing into the distance. "Me born for it." |
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| Flawless Cowboy | Jun 19 2009, 09:04 PM Post #6 |
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A thought stirred in his head, a plan to make the ogre a total servant, and ruler of the ogre clans. He spoke,"Very well, then conquer the weaklings in the walls. When the time comes for combat against the large ogre clans, I shall summon help for your tribe. For the time being I shall depart." With that he exited the tent and melted into the darkness of the night. |
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| Trostia | Jun 21 2009, 06:29 AM Post #7 |
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jesus is my friend
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And Ulgar watched as his guest departed, thinking, As long as you are useful you can keep your little secrets. The next day, he gathered his main body of warriors. Despite the wind and the cold, they continued their advance. |
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| Flawless Cowboy | Jun 23 2009, 10:58 PM Post #8 |
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Deep down in a cavern, there stood a shrine, and at the shrine a lone figure stood. Suddenly a circle of ancient and forbidden glyphs surround the figure. Between the two pillars of the shrine, the air seems to turn to liquid, and an eye appears in the center. It says in a loud, terrifying voice,"Who dares to call me here?" The figure, Graal bows and speaks,"Master, it is I Graal your servant. I bring news of the ogre, he is beginning his campaign against the other ogre clans." The voice responds,"Good! When the conquest is finished, he can send his armies to seize the seven amplifiers from the humans and elves, and I shall be free!" The lich intercedes,"Sir, I have a request, so that he may be bent to total obedience. Master, I ask that you give me the power to call your minions." "Very well, then you shall receive the gift. Do not fail me." With that, three orbs appeared and circled around the lich, and zapped him with green lightening. The eye disappears and the air returns to normal. The Lich bows and hurries away to return to the ogres. |
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| Flawless Cowboy | Jul 6 2009, 12:52 AM Post #9 |
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OOC: So now what? |
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| Trostia | Jul 22 2009, 06:11 AM Post #10 |
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jesus is my friend
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Frostkeep. Blinding blizzard. Bitter cold. The jagged mountains belied a kind of white peace, but it was superficial. A large band of Ogres, led by Ulgar, stormed the winding passes, and as they went they were joined by smaller clans who could not oppose them and who were impressed with the Ogre-Mage's dark powers. It was twenty days before most of the surrounding peaks were cleared of resistance. Then they were at the enormous walls of Frostkeep; insurmountable, the huge, ice-covered granite rocks were resistant to both magic and mundane siege. But Ulgar had no intention of penetrating them. Arriving at night, he began to empower his warriors. One by one, he selected the best of them and cast enchantments, in the guttural Old Tongue of the magi. They carried no torches and made no sound as they approached; two hundred in number, the first ones ran to the wall, their heavy footfalls covered by the ever-howling wind, their dark shapes almost undetectable. Almost. A call came from the first tower, and was cut short as Ulgar sent a bolt of dark energy at the one who'd shouted. Hurriedly, the ogres began to scale, grasping and clawing at the cyclopean wall. Instead of slipping or struggling, they almost seemed like gigantic monkeys, shimmying with ease despite the cold, despite the ice and the dark. Soon a dozen ogres were at the top. More followed. Battle began truly as the defenders sensed the commotion and struggled to gather their forces. But it was too late; already teams of bloodthirsty warriors roamed the streets of the small ogre town, wielding clubs and claws to chaotic effect, chased by the slow, groggy and confused ogres defending Frostkeep. "Ulgar! Ulgar!" now the shouts grew loud, and some of his warriors died with his name on their lips. Ulgar himself remained outside of the walls, though. Patiently. Quietly. All according to plan. Then a pack of warriors reached the gate, and in minutes the massive iron and oak door tilted, and lifted up. The rest of Ulgar's warriors streamed into the city, followed by Ulgar himself, wrapped in shroud and darkness. There was no burning, no looting. Only bloodshed and the triumphant cries of the attackers ringing throughout the night, the bellowing and bewildering calls of the one city's guards as they were swarmed. "Ulgar!" cried the warriors. "Ulgar! Victory!" But mostly they were non-words, shouts of raw emotion and nonsense syllables. Ulgar sought out his counterpart, but couldn't find any. He did find the central keep, however, and brushed aside the defenders - some of whom still lay sleeping unawares, others who put up a great fight. But they were no match for the surprise and ferocity of the attackers. As the sun began to rise - a faint, milky white orb barely visible in the gray mists - Ulgar brushed aside the fallen corpse of Frostkeep's chieftain, an older Ogre who had not even gotten a swing of his great axe before being skewered and crushed by a half dozen warriors. And he took his place in that damp stone room, his nostrils puffing in pleasure as he inhaled the scent of death and blood. But there was yet one thing remaining. He searched for hours, and at last found it hidden beneath the soil in the corner. A smooth crystal orb, about the size of a human's skull. Pleased, Ulgar lifted it, and began to pierce the veil of understanding. And when he next spoke, his voice and image were carried by the crystal to all others who had such crystals - rulers, kings, nobles and chieftains, the powerful warriors of nearby kingdoms. For these were the crystals that the rulers of the world, regardless of species, used to communicate instantly. There was only one in the Ogre Lands, a relic of conquest, but long considered a tolerable ill by the Ogre's neighbors. The old chieftain of Frostkeep had been reasonable enough for an ogre, and he used it only on occasion, and then to establish trade or barter and dicker. Not so this ogre. His scarred, twisted and monstrous face loomed in the warped image of the the crystals, and his deep voice boomed. "I be Ulgar, Master of Frostkeep! All who are Ogre shall follow me, or die! Know this, or be fodder for Ogre Warriors!" |
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| Flawless Cowboy | Jul 22 2009, 12:19 PM Post #11 |
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The sound of clapping could be heard, seemingly silencing the whole room, and its originator appeared from the shadows. It was of course Graal, who's chilling voice said,"Very well done Ulgar. Indeed, this is quite impressive work you have achieved. However there are other, better lands to conquer than this ice box. Lands to the south and east, Bael Turath, Tierra Shogunate, Al-Shoggoth. All ripe for conquest, all with artifacts of great power. You can become the greatest conqueror the world has ever seen, the meer mention of your name will make others quiver with awe and fright. And remember to our bargain." |
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| Trostia | Jul 30 2009, 08:00 AM Post #12 |
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jesus is my friend
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"Ulgar not forget bargain. Does Master?" he growled. "But Ulgar need more power. Anti-magic glove not get use. How can Ogre Clans conquer strange nations with tooth and claw? Ulgar need know Master can help Ulgar in his quest." He plunked himself on the large, soft bed, reclined, and took the anti-magic glove from somewhere in the depths of his tattered tunic. He played with it idly while the Emissary answered. |
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| Flawless Cowboy | Jul 31 2009, 03:41 PM Post #13 |
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The lich gave a smile, or as close to a smile as his face could muster. He said,"Raid some fortress and steal the weapons. Of course if you want aid, then I can provide it." A he began to whisper his blasphemous magice, and a circle of runes appeared around him. When the circle completed, a green lightning struck the bodies of the dead orgres. Then they twitched, and rose again as mindless zombies, moaning and groaning, and bowing before Ulgar. "There you go Ulgar, an army who serves you even in death. The more you kill, the more servants I can create."
Edited by Flawless Cowboy, Jul 31 2009, 03:50 PM.
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| Trostia | Aug 3 2009, 08:21 AM Post #14 |
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jesus is my friend
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Ulgar watched with incredulousness as the slain Ogres rose up... and his eyes narrowed in satisfaction and a sly suspicion when they bowed before him. "Be there no limit to your Master's powers?" he asked the lich. Of course he was not fully trusting of this puny emissary. Ulgar wasn't the ... trusting... sort in any case. A little while later, he surveyed Frostkeep. He could see there was use to be had in it. It had only fallen due to the laziness and weakness of its former occupants. He had no intention of being caught off-guard simply due to nightfall and cold and stealth. He decided to use his own magics to reinforce the walls, to set traps, to peer into the dark twisting catacombs underneath and find a place where he could hide, hold out indefinitely, should the need ever arise. But that need was not now. The Crystal had not shown; no foreign ruler had responded. He had found a crude, ancient and withering map, and now unfurled it on the cold ground, studying it curiously. He gestured with one enormous finger. "We be here. Ogre lands at center of all." Then he moved the finger down. "There be the puny humans, puny tieflings, puny elves. But strong armies and magics." "There," he said, gesturing at the West. "League of Mutants." With a single glance and a shrug, he moved on without comment, dragging his claw (still bloodied from today's battles and feast) to the right. "Over there be more puny humans. Villages good for raiding. Many warm bodies. Turn to cold, ha ha!" He nodded. "We strike to the East. Graal come with Ogres?" he asked. |
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| Flawless Cowboy | Aug 4 2009, 04:53 AM Post #15 |
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Graal managed the best smile his rotting face could offer, saying,"Of course dear Ulgar, I wouldn't miss it." With that he disappeared into the shadows. |
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| Trostia | Aug 27 2009, 09:39 PM Post #16 |
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jesus is my friend
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Southwest Yamato Tieran Shogunate on the steps of the Frozen Mountains A horde of Ogre-Warriors came rampaging down the long gliding plain toward the ocean, the valley at the end of which was called Yamato by the humans who dwelt here. Ulgar had chosen this place because although the powerful Shogunate military had stationed large forces along the border, the nearest such force was a good half-day away (except for cavalry). Only a small local garrison protected the cluster of villages which Ulgar had chosen to victimize. His warriors were organized by tribe, and into hunting-team groups. They worked together well, silently, efficiently, with surprising cunning for such large, dumb-seeming beasts. And they were well-equipped, now; not a one was relying on his claws and strength alone. Most had at least thick hide and leather quilts, to protect them as much from the cold of the Frozen Mountains as from weapons. Some carried huge wooden shields, but most preferred helmets (the meaner-looking the better) and a single weapon. Frostkeep had a whole armor of Ogre-made weaponry; now all carried maces instead of simple clubs, battle axes instead of stone hatchets. No Ogre was above improvisation, though; a good-sized rock would always do in a pinch for some head-crushing. As night fell, so did the Ogres. They were spotted by the local garrison; they'd made no effort to be stealthy. Instead they'd yelled and yipped, shouted and sang as they came running down the mountain, like oversized and malicious children. Teams flowed like water toward the clusters of Tieran militia, naturally making sure to target small groups with larger numbers of Ogres. But Ulgar himself awaited on the mountain, unseen, huddled in the dense, snowed woods, bent before a crystal. It was from this crystal that he directed another battle from afar. North Thyssen, Bael Turath at the Thyssen River head (currently frozen over) before the line of fortifications guarding the north border The ogre-warrior Klong was from the Far North; heavier than most, with a layer of warm fat and thickly furred skin protecting him from the continuous cold of his homeland. Crystal in one hand, he listened as Ulgar rasped out his latest instructions: "Report on their strength before you attack!" Klong had a smaller force of warriors, and presently they crept through the woods silently, as even large animals seem able to do, slowly, their senses alert. Each carried a canteen or winesack of blood handy; before battle, they would belt down some of it, and enter into a blood rage which would give them added ferocity, tolerance to pain and defense against some types of magic or other influence. These were all veterans, having fought tooth and nail with other Ogres their whole lives, and in the war of unification waged by Ulgar. Even the losing side had gained enough experience to be valuable to Ulgar, and some who had originally opposed Ulgar (or supported a chieftain who did) even now followed Klong through the woods. Like the other force to the south, Klong's warriors had targeted a human settlement consisting of a few villages. However, these, he knew, were protected by a fortification and possibly several; with trained, well-equipped garrisons. Overcoming the defenses of such a force would be difficult for even Ogres, which is why Ulgar had granted them his own personal assistance. Few spells could work long-distance, but with the help of the crystal reporting, Ulgar knew at least one way to project lethal power to support Klong's effort. But first they needed a target. Klong himself patiently crept on, nearing a bend in the path where he suspected the fortification would be. He made sure to make as small a target as possible and peered around the corner, just barely allowing his gaze to see what the Tiefling-ruled empire had in store for them. |
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| Nuke | Aug 28 2009, 04:16 AM Post #17 |
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Taro Tsubasa, the local garrison commander, was nowhere to be found. Indeed, the sighting of the Orge's had scared away many of the local militia. Those few who showed up - "few" being an overstatement - were ill-prepared, despite years of raids by the Orges. Every time they would come, a few brave men, fed up with the inability of the Shogunate to secure the borders, would stand up to the Orges. And every time, they would perish, while the rest hid. This time was no different. Those few who chose to fight were slaughtered, with the great many who chose to hide found themselves once more at the mercy of the Orges. This time, however, it would be different. Nay, worse. |
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| Flawless Cowboy | Aug 28 2009, 09:59 PM Post #18 |
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From behind Ulgar a voice said with disdain,"You're using ogres to scout in Bael-Turath? You should try something else, something that would gather less attention, perhaps the eaters of carrion, the crows. Crows make excellent spies, and plenty of them will follow your ogres no doubt." It was of course Graal who said these words, walking out of the shadows. |
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| Antartis | Aug 29 2009, 05:59 PM Post #19 |
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Kawaii nee~!
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Border crossing outpost, North Thyssen, Bael Turath It was just a few hundred meters from the border itself; a stone watch tower, the kind of border fortification that could hold on for a few hours at best before serious assistance could arrive. Traditionally, Thyssen's border was lightly guarded when compared to the border controls and fortifications to the south or the west, especially the west. This was because the ogres were no major threat to date; their raids were infrequent past the frontier, and even so the damages they caused were not worth responding with the Imperial Army. As such, the defence of the borders was left to the Septarch Guards of Thyssen - something akin to the Landwehr of Austria under Austria-Hungary, a militarised militia formation of decent quality that served under the Imperial Army garrison in the nearby castle which controlled the river's transit. The outpost had about five guards at the time; all but one were humans, the latter being an uneasy Lowborn Tiefling. For the humans, playing cards was what passed time. "Who cares about the brutes anyway?" they said. "If, if they ever come, we'll just ring the alarm and run to the castle." But for the Tiefling sergeant, much more cunning than his human companions, manning toe top of the touer and being ready to light the fire of alarm was the only thing that kept him sane. He had seen the ogres - he knew how big and dangerous they were. As such, he seemed to be the only one really on duty. And the only spelltricks they had handy were some "firepots" - small cylindrical pots full of alchemical fire, which you could hurl at the enemy. Not even acidpots, for decency's sake. They had to be firepots, since the fire-resistant tieflings were less likely to harm themselves like that; but fire was also easier to put out... OOC: The garrison consists of four human and one tiefling men-at-arms. Each one wears thick padded undergarments, a steel lamellar cuirass, helms with camail, steel greaves and bracers, a longsword, a scutum shield and spears. Each also has two "firepot" alchemist fire grenades available. Edited by Antartis, Aug 29 2009, 06:06 PM.
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Proudly representing Denmark-Norway-Iceland, Sweden and Galicia in the regional role-play. | |
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| Trostia | Oct 16 2009, 08:11 AM Post #20 |
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jesus is my friend
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Southwest Yamato "Aye," Ulgar said. "I be using Ogres to scout." "They be five, may be six number," Klong's voice carried forth from the crystal. "Sword, spear, shield and armors. Human." "Good. Now attack," said the Ogre leader. He turned to Graal and barred his teeth in a fierce grin. "Crows can not do what Ogre scouts will. You wait. You see." In the valley below, the first roars of triumphant Ogres came echoing up. "For Ulgar!" "Ulgar!" his name came from more than one battle team. Others shouted the names of their clan, their ancestral gods, or simple, guttural rage. One hut was burst into by a pair of ogres, who found a frightened woman and child. Only one Ogre could fit through the door, and he brought a heavy metal mace down on each one's head, one after the other, laughter snorting out of his wide nostrils. Elsewhere a brave young militiaman held up a single Ogre with a spear, thrusting skillfully and dodging the heavy blows. It looked an even match - but there were too many Ogres, and not enough militia, and another Ogre attacker came from behind and crushed his skull. The Ogres were slaughtering all they found. Border Crossing Klong's warriors split into two groups. The rear ones slipped up and circled around the fort, hoping to come at it from another side. Klong himself strode out of the woods, his crystal safely tucked in its pouch. He was pitted and scarred from all his years of hunting and fighting. He'd earned his position, and anyone who questioned it regretted it. He gazed up and saw the Tiefling leader - his eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected one of them - he knew they could be tricky, formidable foes. And mages. "Drink of the blood," he growled. Then his team charged, blood rage in their eyes, shouting in an echoing chorus as they narrowed the gap to the tower toward what appeared to be a wooden door. "Drink of their blood!" he shouted now, in the Ogre tongue. An ancient battle-cry, he meant this one to be literal. To drink the blood of the enemy was to gain his powers... |
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8:35 AM Jul 11