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| The Masque of The Red Death | |
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| Topic Started: Jan 14 2008, 05:02 PM (886 Views) | |
| ~Darthanis Galbraith~ | Jan 14 2008, 05:02 PM Post #1 |
JBHZI81U812
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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.
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| ~Twilight~ | Jan 17 2008, 03:39 PM Post #2 |
Ing Freak
  ![]](http://209.85.62.24/static/1/pip_r.png)
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Everius had followed the main road through the slums, not wanting to waste any more time than necessary, which was partially the reason for him not wanting to bother with that little weird brat a while earlier, he was glad that she came though, as she made the annoying soldiers and that mage go away, he still didnt know what happened to the wolves, but he didnt care as long as they didnt get in his way. He was almost back to the barracks when he suddenly felt a ripple... To him it was barely noticable, but the dark intentions in it made it more "pronounced" to him than anything else in his surroundings. It was very unlikely for a Soul Cursed to possess normal magic, but they still possessed the ability to discern it if they were experienced enough. When he felt the "call", he stopped and looked around, instantly grabbing the hilt of his large broadsword. He did not like the feeling it gave him, not one bit... By now he guessed that Darthanis was heading back to the barracks, as well as all others that was "attuned" to magic, or whatever that call had been. Everius let go off the swords hilt and continued walking towards the barracks, still being cautions of his surroundings however as he didnt know what to expect. When he got back to the Barracks Everius noted that most of the "special guests" had already arrived, and only a short while after it seemed the rest had gathered there, he wasnt sure, nor cared, about keeping track of all of them though so he might have missed one or two. Either way, when Darthanis explained the situation a grin spread on Everius lips, so they would fight undead huh? Undead infected by this "Red Death", most interesting. If they were anything special as Darthanis seemed to claim them to be, he might even find it fun. --- Some distance away, ontop of the largest building in the city three silhoutes could be seen, if one managed to look through the intense rain. If one was closer they would notice that it was indeed three cloaked figures standing there, gazing down at the city. "Did you feel it?" The largest of the cloaked figures said in a deep male voice that had a barely audible echo too it, as he turned to look at the other two one might be able to discern the bright golden eyes inside the hood that covered his head and cloaked his face in shadows. "Yes, how could I have missed it? With the ruckus caused by it I'm surprised that the humans didnt notice" The second figure answered with a voice that might fit into a woman in her thirties, and while the cloak covered most of her body it was not hard to see it was indeed a woman up close, however none of her face was visible inside the hood, it was shrouded in complete darkness. "Should we help?" A third figure said, it was the shortest of the three and from the voice it was hard to discern wheter it was a boy or a younger woman, and no features was discernable either. "No... We will watch, for now." The first person said, the two others nodded in acknowledgement, and then as a bolt of lightning lit up the sky they were gone. OOC: The plot thickens. |
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| +CEMP+ | Jan 19 2008, 08:10 PM Post #3 |
SUPER SHELL BATTLE MODE 3!
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Teffra chuckled a bit inside as she saw Aysla try to wipe the frost out of his hair, noticing as much as he tried, he just wasn't able to. Strangely, she couldn't help but smirk inwardly, (She had been smirking a lot lately, she realized) at how Aysla had caught what she had meant, but made no weird notion of it. Either the mention had been too obscure for him to raise a brow, or he simply had an accepting mind. There could be a couple of other answers, she thought as they strode back to the, but it really didn't matter anyway. What did, however, warrant more of her attention was how he seemed to close up immediately after Groken spoke; what disturbed her even more was the tune of his 'noise' had changed to match that of a moment ago. It was as though there was something about her companion that bothered him greatly; why, she could not understand. The only reason she could deduce was that he had seen his Melog form, but even still, that didn't make him a threat, and she knew Aysla wasn't anyone ordinary, just as she was. She could tell he wasn't bothered by anything out of the ordinary, probably because to him, that wasn't in his definition. As far as she knew, Groken wouldn't hurt a fly, and was in no way some kind of jerk, and the two obviously hadn't gotten to know each other as she had. Even though she enjoyed Aysla for his mystery, there was something deeply disturbing about his reaction. She'd have to make a reminder to question him about that when there was a chance. Back at the barracks, Teffra and her companion listened to what the litch had to say. While Teffra knew that there could be danger on this journey, and she didn't feel surprised to bump into some, Groken was not at all happy. She could him groaning behind him, and she rolled her eyes. "Listen, Groken, I don't think diplomanacy is going to get us out of this fight, or at least stop it. Besides," she added with a smile, "it's not like you have to fight. You're just here to help with some research; you can leave the fighting to me, ok?" Groken merely nodded, seeming happy for her reassurance, but still groaned at the thought of an oncoming battle. Teffra couldn't help but wonder what Aysla was making of all this. Strange, she couldn't help but feel a tad worried for him, despite the fact that she knew he could take care of himself. All that she knew was that this was going to one night. |
"To look for a shipwreck is at best a crapshoot, and to launch and fund a search, it helps to be the headmaster of the village idiot school or else the kind of stubborn lunatic who tries walk through walls simply because they're in the way. I probably fall in the latter group." - Clive Cussler, The Sea Hunters II  | |
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| ~RipTheJacker~ | Jan 20 2008, 11:45 PM Post #4 |
Darthanis's official secretary
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Amongst the moans of undead, the streets fell silent as the cloaked traveler strode towards the inn. For Aerynne, nothing came a surprise to her any more, least of all Zombie filled towns. Her youth had been filled with strange events, from being burned at the stake six times and being sailed across the sea in a barrel. Aerynne certainly did not lack in stories to tell at taverns. Her life had not left her without scarring though; she had lost her right eye in a library fire. Aerynne pulled her cloak tighter to ward off the rain as she made her way up the tavern steps. She pulled her hood down to scan the room; the lack of people was somewhat bewildering. She plopped herself down at a barstool to mope. “I’d like the strongest thing ye’ got.” She had a thick accent and a twang to her voice unmatched to her rustic and prickly outer appearance. Burn scars cascaded down her face and neck, some showing on the back of her hands. The strange thing about her appearance was the abundance of ink stains on her and her clothing, and the large amounts of quills in various pockets. “Where is everyone?” she questioned, running her hands along the counter, leaving ink smears across the freshly cleaned surface. The bar tender scowled back at her as he passed her a small glass of brown liquid. “Hunting in the slums…” She raised the glass to her lips and took a deep breath. The pungent smell was a comforting smell to her. She chuckled to herself before draining the glass and passing some coins across the counter, leaving more inky smudges. “Why’s that?” The bartender quickly mopped the mess up with a scowl. “We’ve… had an outbreak.” He fidgeted uncomfortably, spinning the rag in his hands. Aerynne spread her inky hands out across the counter, leaving more smears. “Outbreak?” she questioned. His eyebrows twitched with irritation as he lifted her inky hands to mop the bar up again. “Red Death.” He mumbled. Aerynne gasped dramatically, holding her hands in front of her face. “Sounds dreadfully terrible!” she commented before slamming her inky hands back on the counter. The bar tender clenched his jaw and lifted her hands a second time, cleaning the bar off carefully. “What is it?” She asked excitedly. He dropped her hands in astonishment, before realizing that there was yet another ink mess on the bar. He snatched them up with a growl, washing them off before wiping down the counter for the sixth time. She laughed loudly and shook a hand in his face. “Aw I was juss’ kiddin’!” she shook her head emphatically. “I think you’re crazy.” She pushed her hands into her pockets before continuing. “I’ve been all over the world, an’ I’ve never seen such a thing. I’m juss’ here for some ball.” The bartender stared back quietly before continuing. “There’s an undead here to help us, by the name of Darthanis…” He pointed a shaky finger at the broadsword lashed around her waist. “They might want some help if you’re up for it.” “Ah well…” She pulled her hands from her pockets, slamming her palms on the counter. “I’ll see if I can’ find him.” She shook her head politely, thanking him for the drink before leaving. The bartender stared at the door dully, then it caught his eye; two black hand marks on the counter. |
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／l、 ﾞ（ﾟ､ ｡ ７ OMFG l、ﾞ ~ヽ KAWAIII-NE! じしf_, )ノ | |
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| ~beflexor~ | Jan 29 2008, 04:08 PM Post #5 |
I just _____ in the _____.
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“What!?” Agitha looked around, as though the dead would be coming upon them at any minute. When she looked back, she saw the Lich had already hurried up the street. “Hey!” She called to him before turning her attention to her board. “G-go! Go you!” It moved several inches forward and slowly began to float to the ground. “Don’t you even think about it! Go!” She gave it a hard smack, which earned her a full two feet of shoe-scraping travel. “I’ll throttle you! I’ll cut you up into tiny pieces and then I’ll make you into sawdust and let Peep bury his mess in you!” The board was completely still in a moment of inanimate object thought before deciding to start moving at a more hurried pace. “Thank you!” The witch said, patting the wood lovingly. “I’ll be sure to put a good word in with the contractor that’s using you. See if I can’t get you to be a trophy shelf or something. She managed to make it just in time to hear Darthanis’s speech. A list of spells began to form in her mind. Most of them were meant for living subjects though, and she huffed. “Why couldn’t they have been boybands!?” Even if they were comedians she would have a much easier time combating the foes. Dark, shambling silhouettes began to appear and Agitha slammed her hands onto the ground. It wouldn’t work for long, but it would buy her some time while she looked for some things to help her. There was a bubbling sound from the ground, grass, stone, metal, all was being effected, soon, the workings of her spell began to take shape as a long trench full of creamed corn made itself apparent. There were several bridges across the corn-filled gap, but anything wandering aimlessly (or hungry children), would find themselves falling into the mess and becoming considerably bogged down. “Onions” she said to herself “I need onions, and noodles. Onions and noodles and perhaps some toothpaste.” She ran through a door and was gone, only the occasional crash and curse told people she was searching. Peepin’ Tom remained behind. ~ When the summons for the dead hit Aysla’s ears he stumbled, falling to the ground where he then emptied the contents of his stomach. His retching still went on for awhile longer until it finally subsided into a moan. He didn’t need Teffra to tell him what that call had been for. It didn’t take long for him to catch up to her at the barracks, and he wiped his mouth with his sleeve for what felt like the thousanth time, hoping he’d managed to clean himself up entirely. Even now he could feel the residual power of the call, hanging in the air like a morning fog. She heard Teffra talk to Groken, of course he would be a coward. Built like an ox but cowardly. Aysla would just have to fight then, to make up for Groken. He took a dagger from his belt and set it to his finger to balance it, show Teffra what real friends did, they got ready to protect those they cared about. Another wave of nausea hit him and he decided to just hold the dagger normally. He covered his sick feeling with a smirk as he turned to Teffra. ”If any of the dead get too close, it’s not like they’ll be able to do anything with their feet frozen firmly to the grass.” He hesitated for a moment. “Is that chunky yellow pool really what I think it is? How can that honestly help us? That’s quite possibly more useless than Groken! Even Groken could prove useful, should we decide to push him over onto a grouping of undead.” The Tenebrous grinned as he looked Groken up and down “like a giant paperweight.” |
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Ceiling Cat is watching you... | |
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| +CEMP+ | Feb 3 2008, 11:16 PM Post #6 |
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SUPER SHELL BATTLE MODE 3!
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Teffra smirked when she 'heard' Aysla come into the barracks, long before he even talked or said a word. It was nice to see his strange face, he was different, and a bit more standout from the rest of the people here. She even snickered at the many comments he made; until he mentioned Groken. Her eyes popped wide open, and her entire expression immediately changed, her face contrasting her smiling face with a near insidious anger. Before Aysla could blink, Teffra's yanked him by his shirt/tunic with a surprising amount of strength, a part of her elf heritage. She pulled him into a more secluded spot within the barracks room, holding him tight by his tunic. She was so close when she spoke that she was practically breathing down Aysla's neck. "I don't know how and when you knew, and I don't care," she hissed, "but Groken is not just a simple pile of walking junk. He's a friend, and he can feel things. Don't ask me how, but he can; you can stab, pinch and prod, and he will feel, and I doubt he likes it. What you see of him now is not just an illusion, but his personal avatar; a method to express himself in many ways." "Let me be very, very, very clear on this. My knowledge on how Groken's physical existence here works is limited, and there can be number of unforeseen quirks about him that I would rather not witness. For all I know, the over exertion of 'pain' might just as well kill him." She let Aysla go, but still held an intense stare. "You even dare use him a 'giant paperweight', I will personally hunt you down, and, well, you get the idea." |
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"To look for a shipwreck is at best a crapshoot, and to launch and fund a search, it helps to be the headmaster of the village idiot school or else the kind of stubborn lunatic who tries walk through walls simply because they're in the way. I probably fall in the latter group." - Clive Cussler, The Sea Hunters II | |
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| ~RipTheJacker~ | Feb 4 2008, 06:19 PM Post #7 |
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Darthanis's official secretary
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Aerynne followed the sounds of shrieks that rose up above the slums. She gripped her hilt tightly, carefully scanning the streets as she jogged into the fray. She checked each ally quickly, sprinting from corner to corner, then it appeared. Aerynne grinned as she pulled the blade out of the sheath. First kill of the night. She swung high, catching the zombie in the jaw. A handful of them bumbled down the streets, moaning as they tripped over themselves. “C’mon!” Aerynne gloated. She pulled the blade up, ramming it into the Zombie’s head, then pushed it carelessly from the blade. “Who’s next?” Without warming a swarmed crawled from over the roofs, blocking her exit. Aerynne dropped her shoulders in disappointment. To her Zombies got old fast, they weren’t smart enough to give her a challenge. She felt a hot hand grab her around the wrist and pull. She yanked her hand back, swinging the sword into the Zombie’s neck. She gripped the hilt tightly with two hands before gritting her teeth. It was time to get bloody. She sprung into action, a dead run into the largest clump of undead and began bashing. The only skills really required when facing zombies are endurance and the ability to space out while doing long nights of mindless head smashing. Another hand snatched at her hood, pulled her off her feet. The swarm threw itself at her, mouths open, ready to bite. They seemed smarter then your average zombie. She slipped the quills from her pockets, jamming them quickly into the faces of the nearest mouths. She rolled back to her feet, smashing one’s head with her hilt. She grabbed a handful of it’s jacket and shook it’s limp body before sinking her teeth into the top of it’s head. “How do you like it? Hm?” She threw the zombie from her, wiping her sleeve across her lips in the hope it would remove the putrid taste of dying flesh from her mouth. She spat a few times as she turned down the nearest, not so zombie infected, alley. She had to find this ‘Darthanis’ fellow, and she needed him now. She inspected herself carefully, to be sure her adrenaline had not covered up any chance of being bitten, but she found nothing but cat scratches and bruises. She didn’t have the slightest idea of where to look, nor did she have any skills or abilities that would help her track him down. It was time to be inventive, if she couldn’t find him; he’d have to find her. Aerynne screeched to a halt at an alley full of the undead. “Oye!” She shouted, kicking a rather large rock into the group. She raised her sword, rushing madly into the group, hacking at anything that moved. The fierce blows pulled at her muscles, fatiguing her quickly. She had the stamina to survive zombies, but to be attacking them on her own was never something she had hoped to do. Slowly the group waned into a few limping beasts. She slipped a small bottle of bark ink, an alcoholic substance, from her bag. She popped the cork and began to swing it, spraying its contents all over the heap of corpses. Once the bottle was emptied she pushed it back into her bag. She pulled her hand back out, instead of the bottle, she now held a small dusty blue bag and a fire stone. She grabbed hold of the drawstring and threw the bag, jerking and spewing a dusty substance all over the bodies. It rained down slowly, much like ashes. Now was the fun part. She pushed the pouch back into her side bag and began to walk away, haphazardly tossing the firestone into the heap behind her. “Boom.” An explosion shook the block, flames spewed out over the roof tops. Bodies flew like rag dolls into the air, hitting the ground with an awful crunch. Now all she had to do was wait here, no one would miss this. She propped herself up against an old cart and pulled her hood up. She pulled a healing potion from her pouch and nursed it slowly. “Any minute now.” She sighed to herself. |
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／l、 ﾞ（ﾟ､ ｡ ７ OMFG l、ﾞ ~ヽ KAWAIII-NE! じしf_, )ノ | |
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| ~Darthanis Galbraith~ | Feb 7 2008, 10:27 PM Post #8 |
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JBHZI81U812
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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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| ~beflexor~ | Feb 8 2008, 10:56 PM Post #9 |
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I just _____ in the _____.
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(OOC: That was the awesomest action post I’ve ever read Rip ^^) While Teffra’s grab had taken Aysla by surprise, he normally would have used the time it took to drag him somewhere to fight them off. Any sudden, threatening movements toward the Tenebrous was often responded by an equal, or perhaps even greater, instinctual reaction. Had he not been feeling ill, he might have hurt Teffra, but instead of lashing back at her he simply followed in a stumbling manner, trying his best to make up for hid foot-taller difference. He didn’t even manage to shout what he usually did, still, it echoed in his head as they made their way to wherever she wanted to go. Leave me alone Sharr! Her words, at first, bit into Aysla like a blade, she was his friend, out of everyone here, and he had wronged her. His fear of her managed to increase tenfold, the fear and near-empathy slowly turned to a dark anger, he had no idea where it came from, but he knew its roots lie in the same place as to why he feared her. “You want to know why I hate that paperweight of yours?” He hissed, daring to use the term again. “You honestly want to know? He was talking to the lich privately at the inn earlier. They used a spell to keep anyone from hearing their exchange but that didn’t stop my eyes from taking in everything. At first I worried perhaps he was a danger to you, but I was deluding myself. Teffra, I hate him because I’m jealous!” He stood there for a moment, his eyes closed, before he spoke in a lower tone. “He has something, something I don’t. I see it in the way he walks and talks and feels, I see it in him like I do the rest of you, I don’t see it in me. I’m missing something and every time I look at that thing, at Groken, it’s like he’s silently laughing in my face. He’s probably not even doing it on purpose but it just makes me so angry and I don’t know why.” His hands clenched into fists. “We need to be out there, not here, maybe we can talk later, okay?” Let her think that I am brave Let her think a sorry I did save Let her think that we’ll talk later Let her realize I’m a traitor ~ Agitha was like a madwoman, opening cupboards with no regard to the mess she made, throwing things around. She felt the slow collapse of her creamed corn pool as it slowly dissolved into nothingness. The witch’s groan quickly turned into a cry of triumph and she stuck her head out the window. ~ Peepin’ Tom sank his claws into the earth and felt a slow power rise up in him. This was serious, seriously serious. He would have to explain later, but the pros greatly outweighed the cons right about now. A slow vibration began in the tabby, unnoticed at first, but became quite apparent after a short time. He yet out a low growl and prepared himself. “PEEP!” Came Agitha’s screech through the window “PEEP I NEED YOU!” The cat jumped three feet into the air, all his fur instantly standing on end. He turned and ran to her, leaping through the window with his feline grace. “Thank heavens” Agitha said, holding him tightly for a moment. “You didn’t follow me and I got so worried. Be a dear” she pointed to a shallow box of fine gravel “use that.” He started to complain but soon saw it would be in vain as he watched her reach into a barrel and fill her robe pockets with large, yellow onions. He stepped into the box and made do with an indignant whuff sound. Well, at least he didn’t have to use his last resort. ~ The witch emerged into the battlegrounds, her robe bulging with the smelly root crop. She had filled her had as well and set it down by her feet, taking two onions out. She held her hands out in front of her as the onions slowly began to lift off her palms and rotate. When they reached a blurring speed she threw them into the hoard of the undead. The onions fell into the crowd and exploded like bombs, sending showers of things best on described everywhere. The next one she palmed into her hand and rolled, it began to grow larger an was soon huge enough to crush some of the undead not quick or observant enough to get away, the onion then changed back into its normal size. Yet another she launched into the air, it too exploded, but sent a shower of sizzling goop down upon the masses. Onion Transmutation was frowned upon by Fifth Hall but, hey, it got things done in Agitha’s opinion. When Peepin’ Tom slinked over to her side she picked him up once more and kissed him on his whiskery lips. “Thank yooooou” she cooed. “You don’t know how much this means to me.” Peep couldn’t help but purr at her attention toward him. Agitha set her hands on the ground and began to chant a series of strange words. She was casting yet another spell Fifth frowned on, but the witch had always thought her sand-rock hybrid elemental was quite ingenious, besides, elementals could strike fear into the hearts of people no matter what they were made of. The material from the barracks was just the start she needed to get the rest of the spell going. The cat litter formed into a balled and rolled out to sit just in front of her, soon, litter from all over the city began to gather, like a river of baking soda, clay, and deodorizing crystals, until it was a huge mass. It reared up into an eight-foot humanoid shape and roared as it reached out with its thick arm and batted away several undead. The rain soaked into it, clumping the litter and giving it a stronger form. The most unnerving thing of all... Were the two brown, steaming contributions from Peepin’ Tom that were its eyes. |
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Ceiling Cat is watching you... | |
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| ~kies~ | Feb 19 2008, 02:01 PM Post #10 |
Kilroy says hi
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Lanzo crouched and pulled an arrow out of his quiver,he carefully fitted it in his bow and took aim at the center mass of his target . He released the shaft and the arrow flew with a satisfying "twang". He in amazement watched as the undead fell to the ground only to get back up, it's ravaged form stumbling towards him, the arrow still sticking out of it. Lanzo quickly fitted another arrow in and took aim again ,the zombie was now only a few feet away from him.This time he aimed for the zombies' head, he let the arrow fly and watched as it embedded it's self in the abominations' skull. "That was close", he whispered to himself as he stepped over the corpse littered ground. They were ambushed only a few minutes after they returned from their patrol, most of them were weary from their late shifts and weren't ready for anything as un-ordinary as an attack by zombies. Now only Lanzo and a few other soldiers remained of his group. He made his way to where the others were and sat down on a barrel, "lets get going, we need to meet up with the rest of dangelours' military, and besides; I don't want to stay here too long." They quickly gathered up their equipment and began to make their way towards dangelor castle. |
 I finally got one!...... And it died a horrible death,so I guess I'll have to find a new one. | |
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1:02 AM Nov 24
