| Viewing Single Post From: The Masque of The Red Death | |
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| ~Darthanis Galbraith~ | Feb 7 2008, 10:27 PM |
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The dead cautiously stole into the clearing that housed the Barracks, skirting the alleys that led in like the spokes of a wagon wheel. The abominations circled the soldiers and the and the would be "Hunters" poising for a strike from every direction. Their plans were suddenly halted by the appearance of a bog of stew. The ghastly minions shuffled for a moment and suddenly broke from the alleys at a run. Leaping over the bogs the creatures landed on the other side. Fresh corpses of the once able bodied landed silent as an autumn breeze. Others like the baker and his co-workers landed heavily as did the other not so fresh specimens. Worse yet were the ones with martial prowess cleared the moat with the grace of a panther and landed as skillfully as a thief. Red eyes massed as the bloody inferni crowded the soldiers. They suddenly spoke as one mind. Each morbid puppet rasping the same words as the rest. "How simple the human mind is. As a plague, you run from me. You cover your faces and cringe from my victims. You burn the bodies of your loved ones and bury them twice as deep. You lock yourselves in castles and ignore your fellow man. All to escape my reaches. But now, as a physical manifestation, as a Red Army, you throw aside your fears and fight. How different is death by the dismemberment of the body than that of a broken system of organs? You all easily yield to my spell, without a struggle. You lie quietly in your beds and bleed out. Or face down in the road, never questioning the curse or resisting it. But as a corporeal foe, you will brandish your will power and fight back. Might you live-" the multitude paused "If only you had the will to resist my touch?" The legion laughed aloud and all shifted, closing in on the soldiers all over Dangelore. The sounds of fighting erupted everywhere as the Mass of The Red Death swept over the kingdom. ------- The battlemages all grouped at the center of the mass of defenders and began blanketing themselves in multitudes of defensive spells till the shone and shimmered and hummed with raw magical energy. Then like the ocean or a mighty storm they lashed out with tendrils of lightning and rent both will and flesh of their opponents. Like a taste of hell's fury was their powers with magic as they tore through the ranks of the red puppets. Their mass havoc suddenly subsided as they ran out of ranged spells. Trusting their barriers and no novice to combat, the battlemagi waded out into the fray, casting touch spells and wielding Ethereal weapons. ------- The lich broke with the soldiers and met the first wave head on. His job as a spell caster would come into play once the battlemage had expended their spells. The head was the natural target of a scythe and as logic would have it, the head was still the seat of the spell. The nature of the Red death was no spell of animation, it was a simple inhabitation of a now empty mind. Any damage to the functioning abilities of the brain resulted in the destruction of the puppet. For such a thin body the Lich handled the pole arm with ease and he did not bother to block the grisly creature's attacks. As a lich escapes the realm of the living, so does it's physical attributes. In the rare case that the fiend retains flesh, it takes on the toughness of metal, repelling weak attacks with ease. Darthanis' moved with the discipline and grace of a seasoned fighter. Trailing the scythe low the sorcerer whipped his scythe low, shearing off one of the minion's legs. Keeping his remaining momentum in play he brought the weapon over his head in a wide arc, squared his hips to the lame foe and cleanly removed it's head well before it reached the ground. Not slowing he drove the tip of the scythe into the neatest foe's head directly on his left. Halting momentarily altered his stance to lead with his left foot and swung again, corpse and all, bringing the weapon to bear on a second foe off to his right. The lich let the weapon fly over the new foe's head, corpse trailing and lodged the scythe behind his new foe's head. Pulling the weapon in Darthanis stepped into the oncoming monster and lashed out with his left hand. The palm heel connected with his foe's chest. The blow resounded with a satisfactory *Crack* as the blow forced the puppet into the scythe behind it, removing the thing's head. stepping through the falling body and pushing it aside with his own, the lich's scythe blinked out of existence allowing the weapon to free itself from the corpse it had impaled and continue it's work unimpaired. A quick chant and a simple flick of the wrist set a handful of fiery darts streaking at the sorcerer's closest foes embedding themselfes into the head's of the flesh minions with a satisfied hiss. The lich looked up from his work to note that there had not been many losses on their part due to the fact that most of the Maskspawn were unarmed. However that seemed to change as more puppets joined the fray sproting clubs, chair legs, sturdy sticks and kitchen knives. Occasionally there were few who sported armor and weaponry indicating their past lot in life. Thankfully more soldiers poured from the castle's gates. The kingdom had a large garrison, large enough to quell this sacrilegious invasion. ----- And the heavens washed away the blood of the massacre. Drenching and water-logging the corpses speeding their decay. It was a foreboding reminder to all how easily humanity was erased and forgotten by both nature and future generations. |
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| The Masque of The Red Death · Fantasy RP Archives | |
8:18 AM Dec 1
