| Viewing Single Post From: The Masque of The Red Death | |
|---|---|
| ~Darthanis Galbraith~ | Jan 14 2008, 05:02 PM |
JBHZI81U812
|
Something pulsed. Or better yet, it rippled. Like the circle of waves a rock makes when dropped in water. The waves spread in the weave of magic, its dark intent sending up protests that were easily caught by the dead. A lich was dead, and so the call reached his ears too. It rang dark and sinister, it rang with malice but most of all, it rang in a familiar way to the Lich. It was a summons for the dead and its nature and source were easily discernible to the long dead Sorcerer. "We must not tarry. The dead stir in their graves Witch." Darthanis kicked his ethereal mount into a gallop and made for the Barracks. Things were about to get messy, and he had alot of explaining to do if his town were to survive the night. Falling into the core telepathic power that all greater unread possessed, he sent a summons to all the realm's magic wielders for their minds were best attuned to the message. Soon the Kingdom was awake, and the streets filled with soldiers. The Lich halted his mount in the courtyard of the Barracks and waited for his guests to collect. Meanwhile the rain picked up and as it had the night before, pools of the stuff began to form in the streets like a thousand mirrors unto the sky. Once his guests gathered in the courtyard, he began to explain things to them. "Some of you may be curious as to the nature of that ripple earlier, Others may already know its wicked nature. The red death hath spread far and wide, leaving hundreds and hundreds dead in it's foul wake. That call was a summons to the dead and with the curse of the red death festering in their bodies, they are all prone to the Red Death's call. My guess being that the Mask holds sway over its 'subjects' We're more likely than not to be dealing with hundreds of Dumb Red Deaths. It has taken to spreading it's being in a web, connecting all it's bloody puppets. But now is not time for words, already they approach. Do not err and take them for mere Zombies or simple dead. They are much more, containing the host's abilities and the mask's cunning they are no foot soldier to waste the castle's arrows. /if we err, we may not laugh this siege to scorn. Gods be with you all." The Sorcerer reached up behind his back and pulled his polearm free and stood waiting. The tattered chorus of fourscore soldiers all drawing their swords and banging them against their shields echoed out across the kingdom. (Ok, time to kill stuff... All the RedDeath Deadies are NPCs so have fun. 'tomorow' is the ball... Comon people... almost done...) Edited by Darthanis Galbraith, Jan 17 2008, 06:14 PM.
|
 | |
 |
|
| The Masque of The Red Death · Fantasy RP Archives | |
9:35 AM Nov 26
