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post #51 of 72 (permalink) Old 11-27-12, 06:26 PM
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Livoc turned at the sound of a voice and saw a plainly mantled warrior, wielding a heavy mace, pulling hunters both young and old into a semblance of a defensive line. He seemed to have combat experience and Livoc moved towards him and joined the line before once more engaging a fresh wave of the beasts that suddenly assailed the meeting. A creature targetted Livoc but in a fluid movemembt he spun aside and muttered beneath his breath as he struck a match, the flame jumping into life.


The creature was just turning to strike at Livoc went a look of horror crossed it's twisted face. It began to scream, it's shrill cries piercing Livoc's hearing. Livoc watched as the creature fell to the floor and began to writhe upon the floor, desperately brushing at flames only it could see. Livoc stepped forwards and pushed hs dagger down into the chest of the creature, cutting off the screams as the creature fell still.

Finding his dagger stuck by the thick black blood of the dead creature he ducked beneath the swipe of another before bringing his gloved fist into its gut. Finally pulling his dagger free he cut the creature from ear to ear as it writhed in pain.

Livoc turned at a cry of pain and saw a creature duck beneath the guard of a clean shaven man and slash his upper thigh. The man’s eyes opened wide in shock and Livoc saw that one was golden, the other grey. He stepped forward to help his fallen brother in the magical arts he saw the Alchemist behead the creature with a curved blade, inscribed with sprawled magical text. Livoc turned away just in time to see a creature break through the line of hunters and bound towards where a group of monks huddled around a wounded man. Without a second thought Livoc hefted his dagger and threw it across the room, watching it pierce the beats eye and knock it to the floor.

Livoc was running to retrieve his dagger when a guttural voice echoed around the room, a chant coming from one of the hallways beyond, and from behind a wave of the imp-like creatures stepped a massive Ogre. Livoc recognized the Unseelie Fae immediately and swore beneath is breath. However, unlike the others of its kind Livoc had seen this one carried a large staff, topped with a human skull and draped with the skins and pelts of many different animals. Small bones were woven into its matted hair and beard, and he rattled as he slowly stepped forward, his chant mixing with the rattle of bones in a most ominous fashion. A blast of fire, conjured by a mage Livoc’s left engulfed the massive beast, but as the flames cleared Livoc saw the Ogre was untouched.

Livoc’s hand had just reached into his pockets to pull out one of his wooden carved skulls when he was momentarily distracted by a blast of heat from the flames conjured by a young man that now strode into their midst. His hair was blonde, eyes green as new spring grass. He was adorned in fine clothes of green and brown, the tips of his ears ever so slightly pointed. He wielded a long sword that shone like the noonday sun and the beasts that had been attacking the hunter’s only moments before shrunk back from the nimbus of light that now encompassed the defensive line.

In a sing song voice he called out to the Ogre, whose chant momentarily stalled in the wake of this man's appearance.

"Bellog, retreat now and I will spare you. We do not mettle in affairs such as this."

A sickly smile crossed the Ogre's face as he suddenly begun his chant anew and flung his arms out in the direction of the Hunters arrayed in front of him. A sickly green-blue light surrounded the forms of several hunters. Livoc could hear the young man shout out something in a language he did not comprehend and a pale yellow light, like the rays of the dawning sun hits the two closest hunters to the man within the sickly light. Livoc could only watch as the men disappeared in a clap of thunder.

The Silent Lions Chapter

Winter Falls


Give a man a match and he will be warm for a day.
Set a man on fire and he will be warm for the rest of his life.

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post #52 of 72 (permalink) Old 12-03-12, 06:06 PM
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Sweat ran unashamedly across the creases of his brow, Ammorochius a beacon of untainted light in the midst of the sea of dark sprites and they parted before his blade bodies cleft, evaporating like dust as he pushed on, eyes focusing upon the cleft in the rock face through which they poured a gap a sword swing wide, through which such a blade could stem the tide and turn the battle.

The pair at his side followed without question, his stabbing strokes becoming ragged sweeping arcs clefting through beasts as he grew in confidence, trusting the pair at his back, to cover him, to allow him to reach further and push deeper into the fray.

The numbers seemed to be thinning, then growing, waxing then waining, the fight seeming to undulate between victory and calamity and he turned his head, to find a sea of hunters at his back, the guiding light of the blade pulling them to his cause, summoning them to his side.

Flames flickered, conjured from staff end and proffered hand as mages enveloped the creatures, the remnants of the tide, decapitated by blade or shrouded by flickering blue flames as blades bit flesh.

The tide was thinning and he felt himself give a grim smile even as more hunters joined the mass, a great sea of blades and staffs raised in weary triumph the tide thinning, and he turned with a smile to the two men alongside, the smile fading, head snapping back at the slapping sound of a heavy foot on stone.

The unseelie fae were screaming, the trickle becoming a panicked rush, screams interspersing their horrific yowling howl, a great shadow filling the tunnel even as it pushed into the light with a snarl.

A sweeping strike flashed across his vision, and he swayed away from the great arcing stroke, a cumbersome forearm, bearing thick clawed fingers catching his eyes even as he brought the blade up, hearing screams and yells of agony as yet more trolls flowed from the passage into their midst, hunters spreading out to engage the new threats.

The first troll, dull eyes squinting into the light of Ammorochius seemed to register upon him and him alone, the great broadword in his hands lodging in its dull mind as a threat and it gave a great bellow, a head taller and 2 spans wider as it beat its chest, arms spread wide to invite Pieter inwards, the cry of beast to beast, an animalistic challenge, red rage rimming its deep black eyes.

Pieter did not retreat nor did he charge, alone against the troll he set his stance, don't bull rush a troll was rule number one. The beast twitched irritated at being ignored, the irritation soon turning into a lumbering strike which Pieter side stepped briskly, blade cutting down upon the outstretched forearm biting flesh, a flash of seering heat leaving the beasts skin oozing, fizzing and crackling and it recoiled with a grunt of pain.

It reeled slightly and Pieter resisted the urge to step in and cut at the beasts muscular foreleg holding his position even as the troll regained its poise, anger forcing it to lunge again, a confident sway, prompting a backhanded swipe at thin air, the other forearm, sliced by the blade, the concoction of holy metals seering at its skin, inches of fleshing melting away to leave a crevice instead of a cut.

The beast rocked backwards forearms raised high before beady bloodshot eyes as it stared in fearful wonder at the crevices in the thick slabs of muscle and Pieter stepped inward, blade flashing, towards the thick foreleg even as the beast brought its arms down to thump the ground in purest rage.

The ground trembled and he felt his feet sliding backwards as he body weight through forward and he stumbled, stroke falling short, body hitting the dust with a great ringing thud upon his jerkin, instinctively throwing an arm out to turn the fall to a roll.

Upon his back he faced the being above him as it raised it's arm beady eyes triumphant. A descending fist crashed into stone as he rolled aside, a second inches from shattering his left knee, a trailing forefinger catching the bone with jarring force the bone locking, shooting pain rising through his body.

Even as the beast raised its hands again and Pieter swiped, scoring a scraping impact across the midriff, the tip of Ammorochius barely nicking flesh, yet the beast howled in agony, solid flesh becoming a fizzing oozing mass across its breast and it staggered backwards clutching dazedly at its breast.

On his feet once more, Pieter tested the knee, a dull throbbing ache, stiffening the joint and he switched stance, leveling the blade as the troll regained its poise once more.

kudos to lillian thorne for the awesome sig
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post #53 of 72 (permalink) Old 12-07-12, 01:36 AM
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The fighting continued and Bishop Anders kept yelling, more and more hunters joining the line, there hard earned experience fighting telling them the need to stand together against this assault. A few fighters ranged ahead a metre or so, so they had more space for there particular fighting style, there backs still protected by the line. It also became more clear for everybody that silver weapons and magic, had the best effect against these creatures. Which meant the line soon developed into supporting those that did true damage to the creatures, even thou a powerful punch by the steelhead of a mace worked wonders too, which Anders had to show every know and then, when a creature was capable of breaching the line or went over it, by running over is fighting and dying comrades. Anders musing if the creatures even saw them as comrades, as he burst another skull filled with thick black ooze.

Anders was forced to dive for cover as another creature fell from the sky, a crossbow bolt through its heart, if it has one. A few hunters armed with bows and crossbows had made a podium from benches and chairs, so they could shoot over the head of the line into the advancing form of monsters.
Anders nodded a thanks to them, as he stood up. Getting back to the line that still needed encouragement, expecially when a huge creature a ogre by the looks of it stepped forth chanting. Seeing it was a disturbing sight, huge, muscled, dressed in pelts, carrying a staff with what could only be a human skull, and small bones woven into its hair. But it was the chanting that was most disturbing element, ogres wasn't known for there knowledge of magic and rituals they were brutes used for fighting.

A mage tried to incinerate the ogre in a massive blast fire, but the ogre just kept chanting, the fire just washing over him, like water around a stone. The distraction, even thou it was short made the line falter for a second, giving the creatures time to renew there attack, and before Anders or other could could steady the line, a few creatures broke through, one tackling a young hunter that by his stature looked like a man adept with the longbow.

Before Anders could move to help the fallen hunter, a bright lance of light, flame and heat burned the creature away, a smell of spring in the air and a young man stepped forth, blond, green eyes, silk like clothes in green and brown. What stood out the most was its ears, a lot more pointed than anything Anders had seen before. Thou his sudden appearance distracted most of the hunters fighting, his presence also had some effect on the ogre and the charging deamons. The ogre even stopped chanting for a short while as the new arrival spoke to it. Suddenly magic was exhanged between the two, and suddenly two hunters disappeared. Bishop Anders had never seen such effects by magic before, he could hardly believe his eyes, and could only pray that they would be okay. Before he returned to the fight with renewed vigour.


The truth was that Anders had not really met fae and unseelie fae like this before, but god be cursed if he was going to die today, and to survive he needed all the hunters fighting.

Sneaky Wood Elf.
Give me a 5+ ward save and I can't be killed.
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post #54 of 72 (permalink) Old 12-08-12, 04:36 AM
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A hunter was in danger. He was was a six and a half foot monster of a man, a full, grey beard hanging down on his chest and shoulders almost two feet in width, he was being attacked by seven of the ugly little creatures and , though he was doing admirably, swinging a twin bladed axe through the beasts, he was being overwhelmed. Running forwards, Henry pressed two knife blades into the chests of two of the fae and then brought his right hand in a swinging arc, slitting the last one's throat. The beast gagged and fell atop the old hunter, who pushed the thing off. Henry realised that, after the adrenaline rush had subsided a little, there was a foot long claw embedded in his shoulder. He winced and wrenched the bladed object out, a gush of blood following it.

"Obliged to you, lad." The old hunter said, reaching out his hand to shake. Henry took it, replying.

"You seemed to be doing alright by yourself, really."
The man laughed good-naturedly and the world exploded. Henry found himself sprawled on the floor and saw the beast a meter away and looming over him. For a wild moment, Henry thought the cavern was collapsing, the beast's skin looked like huge chunks of rubble and stone, then he realised it had arms and legs and a very aggressive stance, so he decided that it was a monster, not an especially angry bit of ceiling. Henry slipped his two knives into his hand and hurled them at the monster's eyes. They struck and the beast flinched, much as someone might if they had dust thrown in their eyes, distracted, annoyed even, but not exactly harmed. The old hunter, dragging himself to his feet, stepped forwards and swung the axe at the monster, leaving a deep gouge in the thing's shin. The monster roared in anger at the wound and swatted away the hunter. The man flew like a rag doll through the air and collapsed, unconscious or dead, against the wall. Henry scrambled to his feet, one hand clutched to his shoulder, the other drawing his sword.

The monster lumbered forward and swung a massive fist at Henry, who ducked, then the next fist came up, revealing the simple feint. The fist nearly smashed into Henry's chest, but he curved away from it, robbing it of most of it's power. Though he was still sent flying by the punch and, as he rose weightlessly into the air, he felt several ribs crack.

He landed a couple of meters away from the monster and heard it roaring in anger. He looked at the thing and saw that when he had dodged, his sword had come out of his hand and embedded itself in the beast's eye. It was clutching it's eye in pain and then it saw Henry standing again. The beast bellowed in rage and charged.

"Bugger." Henry spat, his head throbbing and his vision swimming as the huge troll ran towards him. He braced himself to receive the charge.

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post #55 of 72 (permalink) Old 12-08-12, 10:06 PM
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Alexander dodged the swipe of a claw and parried a second blow. The creatures did not stop coming. No matter how many of them died they seemed immune to shock or being fazed by their losses. Likely they did not care, Alexander had encountered very few supernatural races whose members actually cared about one-another. The creatures that attacked him still eluded his vast knowledge of creatures, some had called it encyclopedic. And yet he could not name these creatures who trailed smoke and had appeared from nowhere. It was beginning to agitate him.

One creature, taking advantage of the hunter's momentary distraction raked a claw across his leg from behind, ignoring the pain he spun on his heel and sliced the creature's head in half. It's eyes were shocked as the top half of it's head slid clear and it's body dropped. The others hissed and grew more energetic, shifting to try and gain an advantage. They could smell the blood that leaked from his thigh, it would only make them bolder but in exchange for being careless. Alexander grinned in his mind, he could use this to end the fight, or at least his part of it.

Before he could unleash another torrent of energy from the Tulwar a strange sound became apparant, the creatures stopped and began to regard the sound. Across from him a horde of imps scattered into the chamber, leading a massive brute of a creature into the stone chamber. It was immense, covered in a pelt of skin and bones matted into it's hair and beard and carried a staff topped with a human skull, but it was the eyes that gave it away. They were slit like a feline's, and marked the creature as an Unseelie Fae. And the only Unseelie that looked like that were ogres.

Alexander snarled and prepared to redirect his attack, only to pause as a wave of fire struck the ogre directly, and did nothing. Turning his gaze to the flame-wielder he barely suppressed a grimace. The newcomer's pointed ears were a dead give-away, and his use of fire marked him as a Seelie Fae. Now the Faeries were involved, Alexander would have been pleased at the amount of monsters to kill if he wasn't annoyed by the fact he could only recognise the Fae and not the smoke-creatures. Raising his blade to the Seelie, Alexander channelled the energy and prepared to unleash an immense torrent of lighting at the interloper. He could eradicate the Seelie Fae while it was distracted by conversation with the Unseelie and once it was dead he could focus on the ogre.

Before he could unleash the attack Alexander noticed that his body was surrounded by a blue glow, his tattoos began to glow in response to the use of magic. The ogre had cast some kind of hex! Alexander felt his body freeze physically, pain spread through his body as the spell took hold. The Alchemist fought against it with every ounce of his will and magic, but the spell was strong and it would take longer than he had in order to escape. He noticed the Seelie Fae shout something, likely an attack that would finish him and the other hunter he had noticed that was also caught in the light. The light that emerged from the Seelie was blinding and as Alexander passed out he swore to kill both of the Fae intruders for this humiliation.


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post #56 of 72 (permalink) Old 12-12-12, 05:23 PM
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"There is an old saying that you learn new things every day. Today, I learned that Demons are real."
~Personal Journal of Robin Blake.

Recovering from the aftermath of his third kill, Robin reached for his bow and reloaded an arrow just as a plainly mantled warrior, boasting a heavy mace, forcing any and all Hunter that gathered to oppose him into a defensive line. the Hunter could evidently tell that he... it was a good fighter, and Robin himself was no brawler. He worked well from a distance at best, and and he realised that if he wanted to take on the warrior along with the fresh wave of beasts heading towards them, the nineteen year old would be most useful at a distance. Alerting the Hunter on his right, a grey-haired swordsman that he would be withdrawing to a safer distance to deliver his own arsenal, Robin watched the man cover his gap in the line as he pulled back.

He unleashed a couple more arrows at this new warrior, one grazed his shoulder guard but failed to do any serious impact, and the other fell wide in the carnage. However, before he could hoist a new arrow to fight, Robin found himself knocked from his feet by a beast that had somehow broken through the line that was steadily crumbling beneath this onslaught. He felt a sharp pain in his leg, but it could still be moved, it wasn't broken. There was some good news at least.

Robin found himself on his back, his hand being the only thing that prevented this new creature from its weapons meeting contact with his face. The teenager struggled against the beast, paying full attention to the gutteral chant coming from the hallways beyond. He couldn't see anything else without breaking his concentration and ending up dead or severely mauled, but guessed the inevitable reinforcements weren't friendly.

However, before the creature could succeed in gouging Robin's eyes out, he felt a blast of heat, accompanied by a swell of fresh air, a breeze that carried the hint of flowering plants and summer afternoons, before being brought back to reality to find the creature above him blasted off its stranglehold by a blast of pure fire. Immediately leaping to his feet and loading his arrow, the teenager turned to see the figure that had just saved his life.

But before he could do so, the teenager was distracted by the blast of heat from the flames conjured by the young man that now strided into their midst. His hair was blonde, eyes green as new spring grass, adorned in fine clothes of green and brown, the tips of his ears ever so slightly pointed. He boasted a longsword that shined like the noonday sun, and his aura was so powerful that the beasts attacking the defensive line were forced to fall back. Robin caught the sing-song voice of his words with that of a skeptic, but after all, he'd just been proven that demons were real by a mass invasion. Anything was probably possible now.

"Bellog, retreat now and I will spare you. We do not mettle in affairs such as this." It was clear as he said that, the man was addressing the abomination that appeared to be the Ogre that had presumably been part of the reinforcements that Robin hadn't caught sight of. And he guessed that the Ogre was Bellog, and grimaced slightly when the beast didn't retreat - instead, a small smile formed on his lips as his chant began anew.

And that was when Robin opened fire.
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post #57 of 72 (permalink) Old 12-13-12, 04:38 PM
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I felt a hand grip my collar and I was yanked backwards. I saw the claw sweep through where my head had been and when the hand released its grip I rolled backwards. As I reached my knees I lunged, driving Dragon Fang clean through the shadow’s chest and ripped it sideways, almost slicing the creature in half. I thanked my rescuer; a plainly mantled warrior who strode around the battlefield, bellowing as he wielded a heavy mace to deadly effect.

He had chivvied more than just myself and we found ourselves standing in a battle line. A sudden wave of creatures assailed us and I felt a savage pleasure. The first one to approach me took a silver tipped arrow through the throat. Its body continued towards me while its head flew backwards.

I smiled as I stepped forward and slammed my bow into another of the shadow’s. The horn-nocked tip of the bow into its stomach. The point plunged deep into the creature’s stomach and I ripped it free and whacked it round the head with the haft, knocking it clean over. I slung the bow over my shoulder as I twisted, drawing the Dragon Fang with my right hand. I drove the sword blade downwards, plunging it clean through the shadow’s head. I saw the smoke rising from a shadow’s claw sweep for me and I raised my arm, catching the blow on my vambraces. The claws carved a smoking furrow in it, almost reaching the skin. That furrow stayed there.

I ripped my stiletto free of its sheath and drove it through the creature’s chest several times. I kicked it away from me before ripping my sword free of the shadow I had killed earlier and disembowelling the one stumbling away. Then I heard the guttural chanting, an ogre stepping out from the hallways ahead of us. A mage tried to kill it, but the Unseelie fae simply stepped through it.

A second fae appeared, this one of the Seelie court. "Bellog, retreat now and I will spare you. We do not mettle in affairs such as this," he called, stopping the ogre’s chant for a moment. But the ogre only smiled and continued his chant, flinging out an arm towards myself and several other Hunters. A greenish blue light surrounded me and I felt pain, pain like that of a thousand crystals of ice forming in my veins. I heard the Seelie fae shout a counter-spell, but the light of whatever spell he had cast blinded me. Darkness took me and as I fell into the cold embrace of unconsciousness the last sound I heard was a peal of thunder

We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment - and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.
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The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.
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post #58 of 72 (permalink) Old 12-14-12, 04:45 PM
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Eira followed behind the priest and the two other hunters quietly. She did not like the catacombs much, where the meeting was being held. It was dark dangerous, and easy to get lost if something went wrong with the meeting and she needed to make a quick getaway. Soon they entered a huge room, one which looked like a theatre of old that could house many people. Eira was drawn back by this, this was not what she was expecting. She was expecting a small room with very few hunters turning up but she was most definitely wrong.
Hunters from all over the known world were gathered inside the small theatre, sitting down on pews chatting and waiting to see if this was a hoax or not. Eira felt uncomfortable by this, there were far too many hunters here, it felt like it was a trap, that something was wrong. So many hunters in one place one would assume that it would be a safe place, though she had battled the creatures that plagued mankind, she knew that they were anything but sane and if they had the numbers would attack to wipe out humanities only chance of survival.

She took a seat fairly high up, giving her a commanding view as there was silence and the man they were all here to see stepped out of the darkness. He wasn’t what Eira expected, but then again she had been constantly thrown off throughout her journey to this place, something which she didn’t like. She payed attention as Vladamir talked to the hunters, listening in silence though when he started to lecture on about demons. She didn’t believe him, she had seen so many creatures but a demon? It was too much for her to believe in.
She felt like getting up and walking out, this could have been a wasted journey. However she knew what her father would say if she did, his disappointment if she left. So she sat there in silence watching and listening.

Suddenly and unearthly scream erupted, hunters immediately grabbing hold of their weapons as Prokofoski bellowed at them to defend themselves as creatures, light and agile darted out of the darkness towards the hunters. Eira immediately drew her silver knife, rushing towards one of the creatures as it screamed and charged towards her. She ducked underneath its talons, before slicing its stomach with her knife. The creature, a grey skinned being with a child’s face screamed in pain as the silver cut into it, falling to its knees before Eira stabbed it in the throat.

She dispatched another two with this method, flowing from one to the other, disgusted by these smallish creatures. She leapt on the back of the fourth, plunging her silver knife into its back repeatedly as it screamed before leaping off of it.

She turned as she saw a blade shimmer, instantly recognising it to belong to one of the order of the cross. A knight of the church. He was trying to rally hunters to form lines to fight back and she moved over to help him, holding her dagger in a high defensive stance. She fell into line with the others, cutting any creature that came near to her or her fellows and gradually lessening their numbers.

As their numbers lessened Eira began to think that they had won, stabbing a creature in the back she kicked it to its knee’s before slicing open its throat and kicking it into the ground. As she straightened she heard a roar that stopped her dead in her tracks. It was the sound of a troll, how in the name of God had trolls managed to get underneath the city like this? How had they gotten to the meeting? How where they here. It made no sense to her. Maybe Prokofski was right.

A second later her fears were confirmed. A score of stone trolls burst through the creatures and charged into the startled hunters, instantly killing some as they were unaware of the danger and shocked by the appearance of these beasts.

Eira dove to one side as a troll swung a massive fist at her before righting herself. She had no choice, she couldn’t run and leave her fellows as the troll followed her, trying to press its attack on her. She wished she had her bow and her hatchet right now, they would have been bloody useful but she had let her guard down and now she was paying for it. She had no choice but to use her knife.

She rushed forward towards it, hoping that her small frame and speed would be able to help her in defeating the damnable troll. It swung a fist at her but she managed to duck underneath it, twisting to get around behind it. Confused the beast turned as Eira stayed underneath it for a moment before deciding that she best do some damage before it looked for a new target. She stabbed her knife into its foot, twisting her blade as much as possible and leaning in on the blade to force it deeper.

It roared in pain as she managed to wrench her knife free, smiling as it stepped back. She thought she would have a moments respite but her lack of experience fighting trolls took its toll as angered it lashed out, a fist smashing into her and knocking her off her feet and into a wall. Stunned she lay on the ground as she felt pain flow through her body, the sound of the trolls heavy feet getting closer as she slowly managed to roll onto all four.
She had been too cocky, she had sworn she would never do that again. She managed to get to her feet as the troll approached, holding her blade she wiped blood from the corner of her mouth, having bit her lip as she hit the wall.

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Default Update #5

"Reports reach me that it is not just the Hunters I have summoned that move. Factions, both good and evil, are stirring. They all feel the sense of impending doom that I feel. Though they cannont even begin to understand the true nature of the situation, for I myself only grasp a small fraction of it, they can feel that change is in the air. Lines are being drawn, sides are being chosen, and only time will tell which will be victorious."

Exerpt from the personal journal of Vladamir Prokofski
December 13th, 1577

Pieter (deathbringer): The troll that has engaged you has shuffled backwards, hands clamped to its midsection, a roar of pain ripping from its tusked maw that hurts your ears due to the proximity. You have just a second to glance around you taking in the battle. Two of the Trolls lie dead, their flesh sizzling with mage fire, their bodies pierced by arrows, but around them lie the bodies of 6 Hunters. The rest of the trolls have been engaged, but its seems that the initial defense mustered by the cadre of Hunters is beginning to crumble. Your trolls heavy footfalls bring your attention back into the fight and though you are weary, a prayer of supplication rolls from your lips and you feel as though you are filled with renewed energy, Ammorochious glows more brightly in your grip, a flash of brilliance that causes the troll to skid to a halt, a massive arm flying up to shield its beady eyes. You take the opportunity to rush in, sword flashing. You are able to kill the troll, taking another clubbing blow to your left shoulder in the process, (this is still not an easy fight so make sure you describe it as such). Whatever satisfaction you felt as the beast falls is quickly brought to heel as several of the smaller creatures assail you from behind, taking you in the legs, and bearing you to the ground face first, your sword pinned beneath you.

Henry (HOGGLORD): You are starting to feel a slight bit of lightheadedness as the blood from the wound in your shoulder continues to flow, combined with your difficulty in breathing due to the broken ribs you now have, you find it almost impossible to raise to your feet as the troll charges. Throwing yourself out of the way of the hulking beast, stars explode before your eyes as the pain of the motion threatens to send you into unconciousness. Hauling yourself up to one knee, you draw your crossbow, hoping that you you can get at least a couple more good shots off on the beast before it flattens you. Your shots find the mark, the first merely imbedding itself into the trolls chest, the creature ripping it out with merely a growl, the second howeverl embeds itself in the creatures throat, causing it to falter in its charge. Despite its offbalance approach it makes it to you. As you throw up your hands to shield yourself, a flash of color flies past your vision, accompanied by a wind heavy enough that you feel you should be in the midst of a storm. You see an azure robed man, a metallic staff clutched in his grip, has placed himself between you and the troll. Lightning snaps and cracks, echoed by the flaring him of the mans robes, as it engulfs the troll. For the moment you have hope that you will survive this fight, that is until you see that the display of sorcerery has drawn that attention of two more trolls.

Eira (Lord Ramo): The troll stalks forward, a slight limp from the stab wound you dealth it causing it to limp, a growl of pain rumbling in its troat at each step it takes. You are set, the best you can hope for is that someone will come to your aid or barring that that you can keep this one occupied to keep the numbers of the beasts spread out. A cackling cry from your left snaps your attention that way just in time to see three more of teh smaller beasts rushing for you, the first on you just as you bring your dagger to bear, slashing its throat. You almost cry in surprise as your hair is ruffled by two objects streaking past your head as two arrows blossom from the each of the remaining beasts heads. Despite the fact that you have been saved from these small creatures, you cry out as a vice-like grip closes around your middle and you are lifted off the ground. The troll brings you close to its tusked maw, the stench of the orafice almost enough to make you retch, as its nostrils flare taking in your scent. You stab at the arm, furiously trying to get the beast to release you, but it seems that now that the troll has its prize it does not intend to let you go.

Livoc (Romero's Own): You are momentarily stunned at the disappearance of the two hunters that seemed to be the focus of Bellog's magic. Bellog however screams in rage and something about the way he stares at the new comer makes you think that it is possible the young man managed to counteract whatever dastardly magic the Ogre Shaman tried to cast. These thoughts are shortlived however, as Bellog began to throw more of the small creatures around him back into the fight and faced with the option of being flattened by the maddened ogre or attacking the hunters, the creatures surged back into the fight. You have the option of bringing your skills to bear once more on the small creature who are still quite numerous despite the fact that a large number of them have retreated from the battle. If you choose this option you are able to kill 4 more of them, taking a vicious bite to your forearm in the midst of the battle. The second option is a bit riskier for you: You can follow the Young new comer as he streaks through the battle field on direct collision course with the Bellog. His sword flashes out and slays the smaller creatures with ease as he runs. If you choose this option get with me and I will fill you in on what happens.

Bishop Anders (Anilar): The line of hunters seems to snap to its senses as you bellow, your eyes tracking the Young New comers path through the carnage to the Ogre, Bellog. From where you sit, you see that you could flank the Ogre easily as his attention is locked on the New Comer. You also have the option to stay in the fight with the smaller creatures whose numbers seem to be thinning or to jump into the fight with the Ogre, a potentially fatal encounter. If you choose to stay in the fight with the smaller creatures you are able to kill 4 more. Either way you choose to go, let me know as there are reprocussions to either decision.

Robin (Bane_of_Kings): Knowing that if you dwell on the disappearance of the two hunters for long you will be overwhelmed by the mass of small creatures that rush at the line of Hunters anew at the Ogre's urging. Your loosed shaft, though hastily shot, finds its mark in the Ogre's shoulder, but if the beast even noticed the offending arrow it did not show. Moving back up the rows of seating, you try and get a better vangage point to fire over the head of the other hunters. It seems that you weren't the only one to get the same idea and soon you are joined by a contingent of Hunters bearing ranged weapons. As the arrows and stones and the occassional fire balls streaks down into the sea of creatures, you notice that despite their heavy losses the continue to come. You are afraid that your position is going to be overwhelmed, the creatures a mere 10 feet from the firing line, when the air around you begins to tingle. Looking quickly around you notice that four men, all dressed in matching grey cloaks, silver swords shining in the fire light that dots the amphitheatre have taken up positions around your firing line, two on each end. The beasts that swell forward seem to break on an invisible wall of force. You are taken a back for a moment, before one of them calls to the line to continue firing, laying into the beasts with his silver blade. To your surprise, your next shaft streaks through the barrier, as slight blue flare of light marking its passage, into an awaiting beast on the other side. You will continue firing until you are out of shafts, each arrow finding its mark.

Alexander (Lord of the Night): You begin to come out of the haze of unconciousness that had gripped you and the first thing that assails your senses is the scent of springtime and the song of birds. Sitting up slowly, your head threatening to split in two, you take in your surroundings. You seem to be in some sort of glade, the trees here are greener than you could imagine, the scents fresher, the bubbling of the small brook that traverses near by almost musical. Getting to your feet you find that there is a single way out of this glade, save for if you decide to walk down the stream itself, and as you make your way towards that exit, apprehension gripping you, you find your way blocked, by a massive shadow. As the caster of that shadow emerges into the glade, you find that it is a massive brown bear, walking on its hind legs. You catch its eye and deep in those dark pools resides an intelligence that rattles you. Something about this beast speaks of great age and knowledge. Therefore you are little surprised that it begins to speak, "Welcome to the realm of Summer Wizard." Its voice is deep, but resonates with multiple tones as if it is more than one person speaking, yet it rings with power and surety, "I am Gaea and I have been tasked to bring you to the Summer Lady." You know for a fact that you will need to tread lightly. Encounters with the Fae are tricksome to begin with, but one of the Queens of the Summer court? What could she possibly have to speak to you about. Gaea turns its back on you, drops to all fours, and begins to lead the way out of the glade. How you react is up to you.

Edward (Santaire): The blackness of unconciousness begins to fade and your awareness of your surroundings begins to stir your brain into a semblance of functionality. You awake to the scent of grass and trees, as they would smell just after the rain, the sounds of birds singing in the trees that are around you, and the chittering of small animals that rest in the branches that fill your vision. Sitting up slowly, your head pounding, your body still tingling with the presence of magic, you find that you sit in a glade of such beauty that your apprehension grows almost immediately. Nothing natural could be this beautiful, this vibrant. Taking in your surroundings, you find that there is only one way out of this glade, but before you can make your way in that direction the buzzing flutter of wings behind you takes your attention. Spinning around, you find that a faerie, about 3 and a half feet tall has come to rest on the soft grass, its large too black eyes fixed on you, its stare unnerving. It will not speak and after a few seconds you decide that perhaps it is just curious about you, so you decide to take your leave. However as you turn to make for the exit you had seen, you find that it no longer exists. How you react here is up to you, but if you decide to speak with the Fae get with me via PM and we will work out the conversation.

Johan (Rems): Senses still reeling from the defeaning discharge of your pistols, you stumble a little off balance as you reach one of the walls of the chamber. The area you have made it too seems quieter than the rest of the battlefield, the heavy fighting located in the center of the large room and off to the west of where you are. You are able to see the massive Ogre to your left, surrounded by the Smaller Creatures that mill about its feet, and you see the vivid flashes of magic and sense its workings in the air, but you cannot see the effects such magic has. To your right you see that a large group of hunters is attempting to fend off a score of Stone trolls, many of the human warriors becoming overwhelmed by the monsterous beasts. You have a choice as to which battle you engage in. Please let me know which battle you decided to get in on and I will inform you of what happens based on your choice.

[Karak, Rems, yoyoyo, and Tyranno- If you all are planning on continuing with the RP get with me and I will add an section for you in the update. If I do not hear from you I will not continue to include you in the updates.]

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Livoc staggered back, momentarily stunned at the disappearance of the two hunters that seemed to be the focus of the Ogre, called Bellog by the newcomer. However despite this apparent victory the Ogre screamed out in rage and something about the way he stared at the new comer made Livoc think that it is possible the young man managed to counteract whatever dastardly magic the Ogre Shaman tried to cast. However Livoc had little time for these thoughts as Bellog began to throw more of the small creatures around him back into the fight and, faced with the option of being flattened by the maddened ogre or attacking the hunters, the creatures surged back into the fight.

Livoc knew he had an instance to make his decision. He could stay in the chamber and continue to fight the small creatures who were still quite numerous despite the fact that a large number of them have retreated from the battle or been slain by the other hunters.

The second option was risky to say the least. He could follow the young new comer as he streaked through the battle field on direct collision course with the Bellog. Livoc watched the blonde warrior’s sword flash out and slay the smaller creatures with ease as he ran. Livoc knew full well he was no warrior and going head to head with an Ogre was suicide. But he was somehow drawn to this blonde new comer, a feeling of magic pulling him towards him. Livoc threw caution to the wind and set off at a run after the new comer.

Livoc fell quickly into the warriors wake, following the path cut by the shimmering blade. But as he ran Livoc felt a hand grasp at his ankle and he tumbled to the ground, his shoulder landing heavily on the cold stone floor of the chamber. Livoc pushed himself onto his back and looked in horror at the creature pulling itself towards him. With its legs missing below the knee nothing but tattered bloody remains were left. Yet this foul creature refused to die and using his long claws it slowly pulled itself towards the stricken Illusionist.

Livoc’s hand flew to his side and he scrambled for his iron dagger. Finally pulling it from its leather sheath he lashed out in a wild desperate swing. The beast pulled back and the blade swung past it by inches. The wide swing threw Livoc off balance and the creature took the chance to throw itself towards him. Livoc tried to pull the dagger before him but he was too slow. The creature hit him like a ton of bricks and he slid back across the floor, slippery with blood.

Livoc stared up into the warped and twisted face of the creature, the dead eyes and the snarling mouth, filled with deadly fangs. He tried to swing his dagger but the creature lashed out and pinned his arm to the floor with its gnarled hand. As quick as he could manage Livoc reached for his other dagger, still sheathed at his thigh. But the creature saw his moment and with a simple flick of its wrist it sent the silver dagger spinning from his weak grasp, coming to a stop metres to the his right.

There was no way to cast a spell to save him and with both daggers gone he was defenceless. Livoc had almost given up when he felt the creature’s body stiffen and blood spray over his face. The beast slumped on top of the terrified Illusionist and Livoc saw the deep wound in its head. He felt the weight lifted and thrown aside and looked up into the warm face of another Hunter, a bloody axe clenched in his meaty fist. Livoc took the hand offered to him and was hauled to his feet like a rag doll.

He opened his mouth to thank his unknown saviour only to see blood spilling from the man’s mouth and running down his chin. The axe man collapsed to the floor and Livoc cried out at the sight of another creature crouched behind him, blood running from its jaws. The creature looked up and its eyes focussed on the sight of the defenceless mage. What Livoc can only describe as a smile creased the beasts face. Livoc saw his dagger and dived for it even as the creature leapt towards him. His trembling fingers closed around the handle and he rolled onto his back just as the creature fell upon him.

The creature began to spasm and Livoc felt warmth spreading over his hands and running down his arms. Finally the creature fell still and Livoc heaved with all his strength to roll it off him. He rose shakily to his feet and retrieved his two daggers, sheathing them once more. He turned in time to see the blonde warrior rushing to engage the Ogre in combat. Livoc fell back into automatic and in an instant the match was in his hand, flaming into his life as he was muttering the spell.


As the newcomer strikes the Ogre with flames and blows of his sword Livoc saw the Ogre shudder, as if shaking off a chill. Livoc watched in silent fear as the Ogre Shamin turned its piercing gaze upon him. It raised its staff to block the new comers blow, grabbed up a helpless creature from the ground and, before Livoc could react, heaved it bodily towards him.

Livoc had no time to think before the creature crashed into his legs, knocking him down to the ground once more. Almost as soon as he fell down two more creatures broke away from the swirling contact and fell upon him. Livoc felt his limbs pinned, his daggers out of reach. A hand grasped his throat and he felt his breath leaving him. He opened his hand and threw the small stone out of the scrum and across the floor. With his last breath he managed to gurgle the word.


In that instant Livoc was free, looking down upon the huddle where he had been just seconds ago. Livoc pulled both daggers free of their sheaths and in a mad fit of courage stabbed down with both. He felt the blades sink into flesh and opened his mouth to shout for joy only for the joyous cry to turn into one of pain as he felt a searing pain pierce his mind. Livoc could feel blood flowing from a wound in his face and he fell to his knees even as the creatures rose to attack him once more.

The Silent Lions Chapter

Winter Falls


Give a man a match and he will be warm for a day.
Set a man on fire and he will be warm for the rest of his life.
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