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AAAAAAMMMMBUUUUSH! “Tell me when,” Sandria whispered softly, cautiously from behind her sighted compound bow. A broken, mildew-covered log concealed the female archer’s position, but even so, trepidation was thick on her voice. Several meters above, perched inside a thick mass of branches and dangling vines, Bekin raised his flattened, open palm to signal patience. Farmboy’s Militia had tracked their foes through two miles of dense swampland foliage, and he wasn’t about to waste such efforts with overeager aggression. His eyes were calm behind a lowered visor, focused upon the trudging troupe of distant Impercia warriors whom weren’t quite as cautious in navigating this treacherous terrain. Sandria obeyed; she blinked quickly several times, trying to ignore oncoming exhaustion. Peering down the scope of her projectile, she remained steadily trained upon a single target that bore a full sheath of arrows on his back. That target was Lance Sepin, who marched slovenly behind his comrades with ignorance of the virulent spotlight that tracked his every movement. “Do you think we might take a break, sir?” he spoke as waterfalls of sweat streamed down his fatigued face. “Haha. A bit tired back there, Lance?” Feyd seemed ready to go another ten miles, but understood the need to maintain morale. Soon enough the Gray Imperial Legion would be set deep inside Volinus territory, and none could predict what units they would cross. “Alright, this seems as good a place as any to—“ Before Feyd could finish, an arrow whistled through the clearing they now occupied, diving along a path directly towards Lance. Shock passed over Sepin’s eyes; there was no time to react. His right shoulder was suddenly engulfed in pain, as the missile found its mark deep inside muscle. “Ambush!” he let out in a shrill scream, dropping to the ground as blood began pouring from his wound. “What direction!?” Feyd shouted. “East!” Emily replied, falling to one knee and giving a rapid scan of the surrounding trees. Nothing alarming stood out, until she spotted one quick flutter of movement, and another arrow screamed directly towards Feyd. “Look out!” This time Sandria’s aim proved less effective, as Feyd quickly sidestepped the incoming projectile. “Adrian and Emily, form on me! Lance, get out of firing range!” he growled. The tall Warlock took note of the rotted log from which both arrows flew, and knew only one solution existed to his problem. “Charge!” Perched behind that log, Sandria gulped, struggling to notch a third arrow before the enemy arrived. “Bekin, help!” she gasped. No sooner had that plea left her mouth, than Bekin Angorak fell from his nest and landed directly in front of the anxious archer. Simultaneously, Therkin appeared from behind his own camouflage and placed himself as a second rampart to the Gray’s assault. “We’ve got you protected, Sandria. Keep firing!” With renewed confidence, the girl strung another arrow and loosed its violent flight. This one just barely grazed Adrian’s shoulder-armor, dinging against the heavy metal but otherwise proving harmless. The Imperica soldiers were almost across the clearing, and Sandria went to raise a fourth arrow. Feyd saw the attack coming this time, and pointed his long sword directly at the archer’s twin guardians. A magnificent burst of white energy birthed from his blade, scorching the distance between the opposing squads and crashing against Feyd’s full plated armor. Both Guards were suddenly pushed aside, and Emily took this opportunity to leap across the remaining distance, rolling through the air until she came down right atop Sandria with one mighty kick. Immediately, Bekin and Therkin reformed to meet the oncoming Imperica, ignoring the Ninja at their backs. They stood like twin walls, shining steel armor somewhat burned from the magical blast. Feyd and Adrian approached with stampeding might, weapons raised above their heads. Yet when the swords descended, their impact was futile in the face of both tower shields. Only a slight reverberation sounded through Bekin and Thirkin’s armor, and the two stood their ground against three more useless strikes before responding with a series of quick jabs from their spears. While Warlock and Knight danced around jutting pikes, the Gray’s Ninja stood above a fallen Sandria, who was struggling to regain consciousness after taking a direct blow to the head. “Reach for your weapon, and I’ll remove that hand!” Emily primed her katana menacingly. Unfortunately, she didn’t bother considering why the two Guards hadn’t bothered to turn around and protect their archer. “How about you drop your weapon instead? Or I’m afraid I’ll have to remove more than just your hand.” Materializing as if from nowhere, Yulke stood to Emily’s right, the point of his long sword placed delicately against the thin brigandine armoring her abdomen. “I don’t need to be quick to run you straight through, hon.” Emily’s eyes darted back and forth, searching desperately for an ally to save her. While she saw nothing, she certainly heard the loud impacts of steel challenging steel, and knew Feyd and Adrian were making no progress against those stalwart Guards. A choice flashed through her brain at that moment, and resignation flushed over her _expression. Hesitantly, she weakened her grip on the katana, finger-by-finger. It clanged down onto muddy soil, blade imbedding into earth. “Good girl,” Yulke nodded to Sandria, who stood up and retrieved the discarded weapon. “Sir, we’ve got one captured!” “Excellent work, Yulke!” Bekin responded. He grinned menacingly from behind his helmet’s visor, and almost broke into laughter when Feyd attempted a stab towards his feet. Once again, the tower shield caught whatever attacks his Imperica counterpart could present. “I think we have what we came for.” Moving in concert, Farmboy’s Militia’s Guards started backing up, edging pace-by-pace closer to their comrades. Feyd and Adrian were stunned in the knowledge there truly was nothing that could be done to break that human wall, and now Emily stood in certain mortal danger behind its steel bricks. “What should we do?” Adrian asked, confusion and fear prevalent in the question. “We can’t leave her!” Feyd didn’t immediately respond. Brown eyes glared at his foes, watching as a stranded Emily disappeared beyond their mighty birth. “Retreat,” he muttered in abject resignation. “What!?” “You heard me. We’ll fall back into the woods; we’ll get Lance; we’ll find these bastards later.” Feyd didn’t believe his own words, but knew nothing would come of needless sacrifice. “Let’s go pick up our archer.” Turning around, both men were surprised to find only a pool of blood where once Lance had fallen. Scarlet droplets traced a path along the soil, marking a trail that ended at the trunk of a rather large tree. When he looked up into the canopy, Feyd’s jaw dropped as he watched the shivering, pale archer ready one arrow and take aim. “Run,” Sepin barely managed to say, just before he let his bowstring go. The arrow coursed over Feyd’s head, past Bekin’s and Therkin’s backtracking line, and crashed its point straight through Yulke’s forearm. A gasp of pain loosed from the Knight’s lips, very similar to Lance’s previous outcry, and his sword fell to the ground where once Emily’s katana lay. That was all Emily needed. She used the distraction and darted off into the woods at full speed, moving away from her enemies, sprinting away from even her allies. The spry Ninja shot through bushes, over twisted roots, and past sinister looking lizards. For ten speeding minutes nothing could stop her retreat – until it dawned: the realization she was completely lost. The remaining Gray Imperial Legion did quite the same. Lance plummeted into unconsciousness as he fell from the canopy, and Feyd caught the brave man before their entire squad disappeared into various sections of the uncharted wilderness. In his flight, Feyd could only hope his scattered subordinates would know to find their way towards Urrak – and not meet any further misfortune along the way. Outcome: Farmboy's Militia triumphs
Farmboy’s Militia – Healing 2 days
The Gray Imperial Legion - Healing 2 days
Battle at the Cave A single man crept through the underbrush. Tall, with wavy golden hair, the man looked about as out of place in the thick forest as possible. This didn’t seem to deter his ever-present grin, however, and as Goro got closer to the camp he became cheerier. He could hear the sounds of battle, but was confident he would arrive in time to make the difference. A hero! Goro liked the sound of that. ~ The hill had been turned into a deathtrap for the Pax Imperica forces, with traps set up all around the ridge. When Saul, Ceallachan and his men had first arrived, Darien had sensed something wrong with the camp. True to form, a cascade of logs and rocks had fallen over the ridge and would’ve absolutely smashed the two squads had the Mage not protected them all with a well-timed Flame Wall. This was only the first of setbacks for the Volinians, the first of many. The Flame Wall glared against the sights of the entrenched Volinus warriors. The stones and logs crackled against its fiery surface, slowly sliding off or melting/burning on the furious blaze. Marcel nervously examined the blazing barrier. “That’s a mighty big wall.” Eirlys shook her head, frustrated. “I can’t get a good shot with that thing.” The archer complained. “Well, there go our first few tricks.” Ferran sighed. “The situation seems to have turned slightly dire.” “It’s fine.” Yon remarked, trying to sense what lie past the wall, unsuccessfully. “When he releases the spell, it’ll take them a few seconds to get up the hill. We’ve got the superior position – the high ground.” Ferran straightened. “True. Let’s get into positions, people…and watch out for one of those walls springing up. Don’t let them separate you.” The two squads prepared, taking to heart the sight of their leader drawing his huge claymore and readying his armor. As Ferran spoke, the fiery spell fell into ashes, the traps burned out. Saul led the charge up the hill, his golden armor glittering in the sun, providing a gentler counterpoint to the contained fires in his arm. He leapt forward with strong, graceful strides, his broadsword raised high in a heroism-inspiring gesture of bravery. The Imperica Pariahand Rogan’s Rage of the West followed closely behind. Darien and his squad, the Imperica Aegis, kept to the rear of the formation, the Flame Mage’s eyes darting across the situation, ready to take action where he could. This was his first action leading his own squad, and he didn’t want to screw it up. O’shia and Rythiel were counting on him. He wasn’t going to let the long-haired mage and her bodyguard down. Up the hill, Eirlys began letting loose with her arrows. The keen-eyed beauty sighted up, and let the missile fly. Lourve screamed, closely followed by a grunt from Forgooth. Both men fell to the ground clutching the shaft protruding from their bloody legs. Effectively out of the battle, they were passed by a confused Laurent, who tumbled head over heels down the hill on a long patch of ice as his spinning scarlet armor flashed gaudily in the sun. At the bottom, he hit a rock and was knocked clean out. And so the two forces clashed, in a mad chaos of weaponry and bodies. Ceallachan and Saul closed first, meeting Josephine and Ferran, respectively. The huge westerner faced down the lithe Fistfighter, grinning. Josephine looked grimly determined to do her best, dropping her Rapier in favor of her fists. The westerner lifted the giant Ramhammer, then swung it in a horizontal swathe aiming for his opponent’s head. The girl dropped to the ground, then swiftly kicked out her foot, slamming into Ceallachan’s knee. The giant grunted in pain, then slammed his hammer down, catching Jo barely on the shoulder as she rolled out of the way. Wincing and holding the dislocated joint, she painfully popped it back into place and stood. In a sudden decision, she stripped off her brigadine and threw her buckler away. The beautiful warrior stood clad in only her breeches and tunic. Ceallachan was delighted, naturally. His eyes roamed over Jo’s body loosely clad body obscenely. However, the fistfighter hardly even noticed as she drew her hand back behind her back and closed her eyes. Saul and Ferran found themselves evenly matched, at least physically. As the Thane’s large claymore rang again and again against the Knight’s kite shield or was masterfully parried by his broadsword, however, Ferran began to realize how badly he was outmatched by the avian’s skill. On Saul’s side, it was almost a battle of ideologies more than steel. This warrior looked to be a decent man, defending his country’s territory, but in the larger view of things it was important that he be defeated. No, this wasn’t a major battle by any means – but any skirmish could turn a war, and it was entirely possible that this would be the one. He fought with confidence, knowing that his squad could overcome any odds together. Yon found himself, along with Marcel and Marganin, facing off against Michale and Archie. The Pax soldiers attacked the two spear-wielding foes with all of their might, yet were thrown back by the longer reach and coordination of the two would-be guards. This conflict looked to be a stalemate, until Yon began chanting. In the middle of another furious melee, Michale and Archie didn’t even notice until it was too late. The detonation went off between all four fighters, yet Marcel and Marganin were ready and had raised their bucklers just as Yon’s chant ended. The other two were thrown off their feet, dazed and concussed. In a few seconds, Ceallachan had finished oogling the beautiful Josephine. He regretfully raised his hammer to crush her, but at that moment the fistfighter opened her eyes and moved, fast as lightning. Her focused punch went directly into the westerner’s gut, lifting him up with incredible force and throwing him over the nearby warriors, down the hill. The fistfighter grinned, then moved rapidly to aid her commander. In the middle of the conflict, Danrik and Cartes cut through the battle like a hot knife. The quick thief and the powerful fistfighter sliced cleanly through both squads. Halfway down the hill, Darien saw the event and prepared to act. Before the mage could implement their plan, however, Ferran moved. He had sensed what the two were attempting to do, and reacted accordingly. He threw Saul back a few steps with a powerful lunge and yelled to Allassandra, who nodded. The warlock stepped in front of the two Pax warriors attempting to disrupt the fight, smiling confidently. Her long blonde hair streamed out behind her as she moved gracefully. Danrik and Cartes stopped, with the latter grinning audaciously and winking at his beautiful opponent, and the former scowling at this impediment in their plans. Both prepared to attack and take the Warlock down a peg or two. Without warning, Allassandra snapped her longsword up to the fore, holding it vertically in front her of her face. As the blade stilled, suddenly her muscles tightened visibly and glaring light coalesced into a ephemeral sword identical to her own, hovering just inches away. The Warlock dropped into a ready position and the ghost blade mimicked her perfectly. She motioned the two Pax forward. They obliged. At first, Danrik was confident they would overcome this. Then, he wasn’t so certain. How did one beat a sword without a wielder? Where did one strike? It made no sense, so he decided to go after the woman. But he soon guessed that the ghost blade had other ideas. Desperately parrying and dodging, the thief found himself outmatched by a mere hovering sword. Ridiculous, he told himself, fending off another attack. Cartes engaged in direct combat with the Warlock, but even his martial skills didn’t make him fast enough to stop Allassandra’s dancing blade. It cut through his brigadine easily, slicing deeply into his stomach. Whipping the sword quickly out of the would-be fistfighter’s gut as the man fell, Allassandra felt power humming through her very being. This was the first true combat she had faced, and it was overwhelming. As she started moving towards Danrik, the thief began to panic. Facing a ghost sword and a warrior with a real sword at the same time was not his idea of a good time. His dagger kept the phantom blade at bay while the Warlock marched closer. Danrik’s savior came in the form of a column of fire. It hit Allassandra directly, throwing her over the crest of the hill and catching her clothes aflame. As the warlock passed from sight, the Flame Mage moved up the hill and joined the battle directly, deep red inferno glowing in his eyes and power flowing from his hands in rivers of arcane ire. Yon and his warriors charged him, attempting to thwart his entry, but the mage lifted his hands in response and they flared bright with trapped fire. An elemental burst from the ground in front of Yon, a flaming figure slightly less than human height, and charged Marcel and Marganin. The two soldiers had their hands full with the bright little fire being, who proceeded to light both of them into bright incandescence. They screamed as their brigadines caught flame. Yon faced off against the superior wizard, knowing that these moments were most likely his last. Grasping his meager spellbook, he began to weave the motions of chaos, and when finished a powerful bolt of wild energy shot from his fingers towards Darien. Not expecting a magikal attack from the man with the strange glasses, Darien was nevertheless able to shrug off the bolt, surviving with his robes only slightly burned. His blazing pupils turned on the mageling, who stood valiantly against the attack. It was futile. A wave of flame engulfed and scorched him. Ferran saw this, even with Josephine helping him hold back Saul, and knew that it was indeed time to retreat. They had done all they could to hold the position, and it would be prudent to escape before this scene became a burning holocaust to that blazing demon of a mage. “RETREAT!” He yelled, and Saul’s eyes narrowed. The Pariah had won the day, but the hawkman needed information about this threat. With Ferran backing away quickly, and the damned Fistfighter staying just out of range of his sword, capturing one of the opponents seemed impossible. Yet…if he could just… Saul leapt forward when he saw Ferran glance away for just a second. His blade came up just as Ferran turned back, fear in his eyes. Jo moved, but it was too slow. Turning the flat of his blade, Saul prepared to knock the commander out. An avian scream erupted from his lips as a barbed arrow pierced his gauntleted wrist. Flame burst out, whipping out of control as the magik in his arm attempted to contain itself. His broadsword dropped to the ground, and suddenly Darien was there, whispering arcane words that Saul could not begin to understand. The flames shooting from his arm suddenly calmed, and over the pain Saul could see another warrior climbing the hill. The tall blonde man was yelling at the others to run. Darien’s occupation with Saul’s arm was just what the two Volinus squads needed. Regrouping under Ferran’s expert command, they gathered their fallen and marched a quick exit from the hill. Saul motioned to his troops to let them go – they had won, either way. Goro had indeed saved the day. Outcome: Volinus squads escape; Pax squads victorious
Imperica Pariah – Healing 3 days
Imperica Aegis - Ready
Rage of the West – Healing 3 days
Patriots of the Republic – Healing 3 days
Cold Blooded – Healing 3 days Menage-a-Trois Hazel eyes sweep the current battlefield. They gaze upon six other combatants, all girded for war and ready to fight. These eyes take in the towers of the Luun War Academy, pennants flaring in the bright summer sun. Proud monuments to the Imperator line the entrance to the Academy, where these warriors have chosen to fight their first battle as graduates. Hellas’ eyes came to rest on the largest of the combatants, the massive Dimitri. This fighter smiled at the smaller man. “You fellas ready?” The large warrior asked. Hellas shrugged. The other warrior, the mageling Pyre, nodded. “Then let’s go!” Yelled Dimitri, as he moved in on Pyre first. Hellas, seeing Dimitri’s attack, joined in against the Primal Elements. “No fair!” Pyre yelled, then leapt backwards and allowed his two warriors to eclipse him in a scything blur of steel. Crystal and Connor held their own for a moment, then gave way to the strength of their opponents. As Dimitri pushed through their guard, he spotted Pyre and yelled. It was the work of a few seconds to chant the magik words, and Pyre had gained those seconds with the intervention of his squad. Throwing arcane gestures into the air with his free hand, the mageling intoned a final syllable and clenched his fist. A small explosion, vicious in its intensity, detonated directly between Dimitri and Hellas. The latter managed to tuck and roll, but the former rose slowly, badly burned. Dimitri’s ears rang as he shook his head unsteadily to clear it. It didn’t work. Hellas was quick to take advantage of the situation, hitting the larger man on the back of his head with the flat of his sword. Krystal and Jasmine rushed in to attack, but were met by Arien and Eris. The four fought each other to a standstill. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew all four combatants to the ground, knocking Eris unconscious against a rock. Crystal grinned and looked to Pyre, who nodded and drew his sword. The three warriors attacked Hellas and his men with ferocity, while Arien dragged Eris out of the way. A whirlwind of steel and rage filled the air for a second, and when it was over only Pyre’s men stood. Arien signaled defeat, and the training battle was over. Outcome: 30 EXP and 1 day healing for all. Luck and Beauty “Lucky me,” an excited smirk creased Clay Za Verne’s beautiful face. Twin pairs of crimson-flavored eyes tasted the abundant sunlight falling onto his awaiting battlegrounds; both sinister orbs focused on his opponent, not bothering to mask the masculine desire all-but-radiating from either iris. Seeing Zodiac, he showed little interest in the splendid architecture around which he was about to enter combat. The arena was a circular forum of ancient design, meant for public debate rather than vicious warfare. White buildings supported by columns and archways surrounded their position, glowing an intense ivory under heavenly luminescence. Crafted upon each structure’s walls, carvings of valiant heroes and famous politicians were etched with such brilliance they threatened to breathe with human animus; staring too closely into those stone eyes might well bring these icons to life. Onlookers had already gathered, their ranks populated by bright-eyed youngsters sitting upon their parent’s shoulders, and cranky old men who sought to vicariously capture the “good old days” in the fight that was to come. None dared edge too close; certainly not close enough to sit within the ring of gray-granite bleachers, which sank into the ground three rows deep to form a border for the pitted forum. From their vantage point, the spectators were looking down upon Yue and Sleeping Sun as though they were circus animals. But, again, none of this concerned Clay. He was far too amused – and pleased – by his current situation. “Water, water everywhere, and so many drops to drink,” he said, sauntering towards his all-female competition with two girls already flanking his every movement. From the other perspective, Zodiac couldn’t deny the exotic attraction that waltzed her way. Few females in Vakaat didn’t know of Clay, and his playboy reputation – most forgave the lascivious behavior, because he truly was that gorgeous. Of course, she was something exquisite herself, curving in every desirable area, yet still donning a kindhearted face that shone with wholesome prettiness. When her full lips smiled, they spoke of a nurturing soul – perhaps misplaced upon a battlefield, yet set there by fate nonetheless. “You received the orders?” she questioned. Zodiac shook any distractions from her mind in that moment, causing delicate black hair to glitter in violet highlights. Focus was important for this fledgling commander, especially if she was to triumph during her debut engagement. “Indeed,” Clay gave a friendly nod, focusing his hypnotic gaze upon Zodiac’s golden eyes. “I find it strange our two squads were chosen to parade for public amusement. Does not Volinus need every able soldier for Yikiin’s defense? It’s truly odd,” his voice trailed, and so did his eyes, descending downwards without any pretense or shame. “Odd, but not entirely unpleasant.” The sharp, melodic ring of unsheathed steel sang in response to Clay’s compliment. Zodiac had her limits, and this pseudo-vampire just discovered them. “Let’s keep this professional, alright?” Already her short sword was poised to strike, its tip tilted upwards, primed to stab Clay’s heart if an inappropriate advance were made. To either side, Yurey and Veyga immediately prepared their own blades and set a tighter grip on their wooden bucklers. “Is she quick enough?” Clay’s smirk didn’t break, nor did his confidence waver. He stood still-as-death, judging the virulent implement that could very easily skewer his brigandine armor. “No, of course.” “Please, sweetheart. Only one of us stands to get impaled in this relationship—“ Clay just barely avoided the rising, whistling sword that went straight for promised territory. Before certain injury could slice his chest, his long, thin frame contorted backwards and fell squarely on its ass. No sooner had the blow gone astray, than Zodiac’s two subordinates leapt from behind their commander and ascended upon the downed foe with a shrill warcry. “Bitches!” Gabrielle growled. She shot forward, intercepting both oncoming Yue by raising her buckler and plowing her quick, tough body into the center of their advancement. Yurey and Veyga were both surprised by the berserk intensity with which their blonde enemy fought, and skirted away to put distance between their bodies and her quick, almost animalistic attacks. Mere seconds behind, Mallory didn’t hesitate to follow Gabrielle’s example and drew short sword to confront Zodiac. Her charge was short lived, however, as Clay flew to his feet before either girl could cross weapons. “This one is mine; protect our fiery Valkyrie,” he ordered. Mallory didn’t dare question his word, but it took some internal-persuasion to abandon her lover’s side. “Shall we dance?” even for a double-entendre, the question seemed steeped in inappropriate suggestion. After so many words, Clay eagerly drew his sword and methodically began to circle the Yue’s commander. In truth, he was actually moving to place himself between Zodiac and her girls, hoping to prevent her from assisting them. “Well? Have at thee!” “God, you are full of it,” Zodiac muttered through clenched teeth, consternation knitting across her tiny brow. “But if you insist.” A horizontal cut incised the distance between both opponents, and again, Clay just barely skirted backwards from its deadly bite. Instead of completely following through, Zodiac took one parlay forward, and attacked again with a backhand motion. This time Clay blocked her steel, suffering the strong girl’s heavy blow with noticeable strain. He didn’t bother testing vigor against a clearly more powerful foe, and instead released their locked blades and sidestepped, before returning with a jab of his own. Zodiac raised her shield and caught the attack, only to find its wooden surface pierced and splintered by Clay’s imbedded sword. “Gotcha,” she smiled. With one great, wrenching pull she managed to tug her opponent’s weapon clean from his grasp. Almost as an afterthought, the conjoined implements were tossed far off into the stands, effectively removed from battle. “Clever girl,” Clay admitted, taking a few steps backwards. A sweaty right hand ran through his glistening white hair, while the other primed his own buckler. He managed to maintain a majestic countenance, despite the exhaustion these few quick actions had taken. “Where do we go from here?” Meanwhile, Yurey narrowly ducked beneath a savage slice courtesy of Gabrielle’s sword. Sticking by her comrade’s side, Veyga responded by catching the offensive strike with her buckler, while Yurey sliced at Gabrielle’s legs from her crouched position. Gabrielle was forced to skip over the incoming steel, then take a few hops back, only to replaced by Mallory who struck at Veyga with a blow fueled by concern for her own squadmate. The four tasseled this way almost ceaselessly, one striking, one skirting around the attack, another blocking, and another sending her own sword into the fray. All four were clearly equally matched, and managed to push their fluttered group all the way towards the forum’s edge. The crowd gasped in shared surprised as Veyga tripped and went down, bashing her head on one of the benches and drawing a perfect drop of crimson blood. Dazed by the injury, she sat in helpless agony as the two beautiful fighters from the Sleeping Sun overwhelmed her partner. Yaurey fell heavily to the dusty floor of the forum, glancing ruefully up at the two victors before signaling defeat. Glancing at these events, Clay smiled his damning smile once again. It lit his face like the sun of their namesake. The commander gestured to Mallory, who threw him her sword, hilt first, and he took a ready stance. “Assume the position, my dear. This could get painful.” Zodiac winced at the imagery, then advanced, her blade whirling through the air. This time, the duel lasted only seconds. With only a sword, Zodiac stood little chance of overcoming her cocky opponent. It was over quickly, with the beautiful girl standing disarmed in front of the victor. The crowd cheered lustily, the ladies throwing flowers into the ring. Clay stooped, snatched up one of the roses, and handed it gallantly to Zodiac. “Perhaps we could we have dinner sometime?” Audaciously, he winked. Zodiac grinned back, and accepted the flower. “Maybe.” Outcome: Sleeping Sun wins, Yue loses. 25 EXP all around. Training Hard to Be the Best! “Let’s get started then, eh?” Goro grinned down at his opponent, the average Marcel. “Not so fast, Goro.” Yon cautioned. “I’d like to explain the purpose of this training.” “The two most important things to military organization are discipline and teamwork.” Yon started. “The more important thing is teamwork. If a squad cannot act together as a team, it doesn't matter how well they know how to act individually. Synchronization amongst members is the most important facet.” Goro began to look bored. “The two most important things to teamwork are trust, and knowledge of your fellow teammembers abilities. Trust is required in order to allow a teammember to cover your weak spots, and in addition it is important to know what a team member can and cannot do. If you know at what point your team member will fail, he will never have to ask for help.” Even the patient Marganin looked sleepy at this point. It was dragging on. “A quick, easy way to build trust and knowledge of your team members abilities, that also improves combat training, is simple one on one duels. Learning your friends weaknesses firsthand is not only a good way to know what they're capable of, but a good way to learn how to defeat similar opponents. Each member of you is going to be paired off with another member, and we will have simple duels with each other, until everybody has dueled everybody. No serious injury fighting though, as we need to be fully rested by the time we get to the Range.” There was a period of silence as Yon spoke these last words. Goro looked up from the patch of grass he had been inspecting. “You’re done?” He inquired, cheerily. Yon looked slightly angry. “Yes.” ”Can we start?” Still that unshakeable cheer. “Yes.” “Ok!” Goro yelled, then leapt backwards and loosed a shot from his bow at Marcel. The other man ducked, barely dodging, then chased, cursing, after his opponent. Yon pulled his magik tome out, and bowed to Marganin before chanting a few words and waving a hand. Marganin attempted to charge, but slipped and fell as an icy patch of ground appeared under his feet. Yon lept forward with his short sword, ending their duel quickly. Goro had been quickly cornered by Marcel, and gave in with laughter. Yon peered over their way, quickly causing the merriment to die down. He reminded them that this was no game, and listed the next match-ups. And so it continued for a few hours. After the 10th Regiment was finished, they packed up their weapons and supplies and headed out for the Felrun Range. Outcome: Training complete.
The Cold Blooded – 1 day healing Holy Training Battle, Batman! Two military squads squared off in the courtyard of the Temple of the Holy Blood. Alekos lead his Kyrinaios with a bit of trepidation, as he has just been assigned commander of the older squad. Alys lead her Divine Blizzard with a bit more confidence, but they had yet to see true battle. So it was a toss-up as to who would emerge victorious. Either way, it was a friendly battle, so the outcome hardly mattered. Alekos was the first to motion his troops forward, giving Rosalyn the go-ahead to circle around on her mobile horse while he, Seif and Giles moved straight ahead. Alys readied Bryda and Layla to meet the advancing men, while keeping an eye on the girl on horseback. The two groups clashed heavily, Alekos’ squad gaining the advantage immediately through strength of experience. Seif and Giles easily held off Byrna and Layla while Alekos took on Alys. The woman strove bravely against her opponent, but it was no use. Alekos disarmed her while his companions knocked her squadmates to the ground. Behind them, Rosalyn sulked. She hadn’t even seen combat. Just got a bit of horse riding experience. Outcome: Training whatever. (Viktor is tired of training, people.) 10 EXP for everyone, 1 day healing. All Against One, Again ”Are you gonna cower, like last time?” Gedrin growled at his three underlings. Indeed, Blaggard did seem to be cowering, almost hiding behind Seldoff and Ariana. The two in front looked at each other, nodded, then faced Gedrin with a quickness that startled the Barbarian. Seldoff took advantage of that moment of surprise by charging in, shoulder first, and slamming into his master. The full-on body-check knocked Gedrin off balance badly, his arms flailing as he struggled to stay upright. Ariana took her turn to capitalize on the Barbarian’s disadvantageous situation, leaping in and raising her sword. Recovering, Gedrin managed to swing his axe at her midsection, but the humming Balric Axe was deflected by the Knight’s shield, and impacted harmlessly onto her leg pauldron. Ariana used the moment of vulnerability to raise her shield and clout Gedrin heavily over the head. The Barbarian fell to the ground, his mind ringing so badly he could barely see. When his vision cleared, it was to his two underlings standing in hesitant readiness. Blaggard gaped at the audacity of the two, and then shivered in anticipation of the upcoming fury. Surprisingly, Gedrin laughed. “Backbone!” the mercenary roared. Ariana and Seldoff jumped. “Good! Good!” Deep in their master’s eye, madness gleamed like a spark of light. “You’ll need it.” Outcome: The Merciless both lose and win.
The Merciless - Healing 1 day Practice Battle "You.. you want all of us t-to... attack you?" Seldoff stammered, as if he hadn't heard correctly. "YES! For the last blasted time, YES!" Gedrin snapped, hefting his axe to add emphasis. "Either you attack me, or I'll kill all of you!" Gulping, Seldoff raised his owe weapon. The prospect of actually having to fight his frightening leader not sitting well with him. Behind him, Ariana held the same reserved stance. Only the newest member of the Merciless seemed bold enough to attack. "Well.. then if you want to die... happy to oblige!" Blaggard shouted. Raising his bastard sword high, he leapt at Gedrin. Seldoff and Ariana reluctantly joined in the attack. Side-stepping Blaggard's downward sweep, Gedrin sent a crushing blow to the back of the head of the "fresh meat", instantly knocking him out could and bloodying his face as it hit the ground first. However, Seldoff and Ariana being vastly more experienced, worked together while Gedrin was distracted. Seldoff charged directly into Gedrin, driving him back and taking his wickedly curved axe out of contention. Gedrin pounded on the back and shoulders of his subordinate, pummeling him into the ground and submission. Looking up as he kicked the bruised body of Seldoff to the side, he realised he had lost track of Ariana. Hearing the distinct sound of metal on metal behind him, the wild-eyed barbarian began to turn around, before feeling the slight prick of the point of Ariana's longsword in his back. "The fight is over," Ariana declared, her defensively raised shield lowering slightly. With a speed seemingly inhuman, Gedrin spun. Grabbing the blade with his bare right hand, he swung his with his left, smashing the flat of the weapon into Ariana's shield and with enough force to send her sprawling to the ground. Grimmacing, Ariana looked back up into the crazed eyes of her master, seeing an odd calm in them. "No, the fight is never over..." Outcome: Gedrin defeats his subordinates
The Merciless - Healing 1 day
Gedrin: 10 EXP The Hidden Eye “Shh.” Caina held a finger over her lips as she helped the other member of the Lord’s Eye onto the balcony. None of them were really experienced as espionage, yet they had to start somewhere. At least they had the caution to leave Roorback in the nearby courtyard, as his padded full-plate didn’t really provide any real stealth – or at least the level needed for this mission. Ire’Lem clambered up over the railing, panting as her feet hit the floor with a quiet thump. Caina desperately hoped that the warriors inside were deep sleepers. The two would-be spies slipped through the half-open door to the veranda, keeping relatively silent. Four beds lined the wall – three of them contained lightly snoring lumps. The forth was empty. Caina thanked the gods that they felt comfortable enough in their own city to not bother keeping a watch. Slowly creeping across the floor, and motioning Ire’Lem to do the same while she checked the packs, Caina made her way to the drawers. She began to open one, then winced at the creaking sound and glanced quickly to the beds. The leader stirred, but that was all. Relieved, she opened the drawer slowly and peered inside. Nothing of use. A few changes of clothes…that was it. Caina methodically checked the rest of the drawers, her heart thumping loudly enough to be heard…almost. However, all she found were a couple pieces of gold, which she slipped with a minimum of clinking into her own pocket. “Caina! I’ve found something!” The fierce whisper caused the leader of the Lord’s Eye to turn quickly, just as Ire’Lem stubbed her toe on the post of the first bed. One quickly stifled curse later, the occupant of the offended furniture groaned and sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Though Ire’Lem panicked, Caina kept her cool and grabbed her lackey before slipping out of the door. She heard a yell behind her as they both leapt off of the balcony. Laredo jumped out of bed, grabbed his broad axe, and stomped down the stairs as quickly as possible. He hoped his yell had awoken the others in time for them to help, but his goal was to stop the thieves now. Surely they wouldn’t be a match for a trained soldier. “Roorback!” Caina yelled. “He’s coming down…watch it!” The commander led Ire’Lem by the arm, helping her with the ankle she had twisted in the descent. Roorback Fleshsplitter nodded silently to the both of them and guided the two to a nearby alleyway before Laredo burst through the doors. Spotting the huge man with the claymore and heavy armor, he stopped. He’s got to be a common thug… Laredo told himself, hopefully. Charging, he roared a battlecry into the night. Whirling at the sound and without a cry of his own, Roorback brought his massive sword to bear. It whistled through the cool air of Karthul, very nearly cleaving off the frantically backpedaling Laredo. So…he’s more than common. Laredo thought. I hope Commander Arcaile gets here soon… A little more cautiously, the warrior moved in closer to the large enemy. Their steel clashed as the broad axe met the claymore, coming away and then meeting again. Laredo found himself slightly overpowered by Roorback, but otherwise he had the advantage, with better training and skill. The larger man knew he had to end this, quickly, before help came or this skilled soldier defeated him. Putting all his strength into a massive overhead slice and leaving himself open, he drove down as hard as possible before Laredo could take advantage. The attack smashed into his axe hilt and slammed the smaller warrior to the ground, stunning him slightly. Roorback took this opportunity to vanish into the alley, following his commander. Laredo recovered and sprinted off after him, but it was too late. The big man was gone. “Oh, Arcaile is going to be SO pissed…” He groaned. Outcome: The Lord’s Eye successful in raid on Black Serpents
The Lord’s Eye – 1 day healing
The Black Serpents – 1 day healing Divine Blizzard versus the Red Company Alys, Byrnda, and Layla lined up on one side of a line draw in the dirt. Kamin, Demetra, and Kerrin faced them from the other. All had swords draw, and all were ready to battle. The city of Enlightened Joy loomed behind them, all white spires and crosses, while the Temple of the Divine Blood stood in front of them. “We stop at first blood. Agreed?” Alys asked, brushing her ebony hair back and pursing her full lips. Kamin nodded, engaged by her beauty but not entirely at a loss. His eyes drank her in, and she noticed. Her response was to grin slightly, and charge. The two groups met with a clash. Sword against sword, flesh against flesh. Alys ducked a slash from Kamin aimed at her midsection, then countered with a blow that clanged against his buckler. Alys was much faster, but less durable than her counterpart, and suffered a few punches by Kamin that slowed her down considerably. The woman swept into a low kick that knocked Kamin flat on his back, but he managed to roll out of the way as she swiped at him with her sword. Meanwhile, all of their lackeys had been taken out of the fight, bleeding from single wounds. They watched in fascination as the two commanders went at it tooth and nail. “Good! Impressive for a woman!” Kamin gasped out, dodging a kick aimed for his groin. “Ha! So typical of a man!” Alys panted, “Always underestimating us!” She blocked a slash with her buckler, then landed an underhanded blow to Kamin’s midriff. The male soldier managed to fend off her next few slashes before regaining his breath, and the fight continued. Bruised and tired, both combatants went at it for several minutes. They both began to feel the leaden hand of gravity on their sword arms, and their legs tired from the constant movement. Finally Kamin whipped his body around and slammed into Alys, taking her to the ground and nicking her arm with his blade. “I win.” He laughed, hoarsely. “Great. Now get off of me.” Alys muttered, while Kamin shamefacedly clambered off of the ground. Outcome: Red Company wins.
Divine Blizzard – Healing 2 days
Red Company – Healing 2 days Gray Imperial Legion ambushes Crimson Empryean Ardan Vaeryn and his troop continued wearily on through the hilly plains of the Pax Imperica, about ready to admit defeat and head on home. There was no trace of the Imperica's army, nor had their been for three days. There was just as little trace of the Moorcat, though Karl assured him it followed them closely. Maybe we should head north and meet up with that woman and her squad... Ardan thought to himself as he trudged up yet another small hill. Suddenly, a loud warcry interrupted the silence and the passage of Ardan's thoughts. He looked up just in time to spot another squad, bearing the Imperical Dragon on their shoulders, charging down a nearby hill directly for him. He unsheathed his short sword with an eager grin, happy to finally have found some Pax troops. Karl and Jessica were right behind him, their blades hissing as they were removed from their scabbards. "GO!" Ardan yelled as his own warriors charged. The two small squads met in the dip between the hills, as sword hit sword and bodies slammed into each other. All six warriors engaged in a whirling circle of blades. They fought each other tooth and nail, the melee intense and quick. Ardan dodged a thrust from Adrian as Emily attempted to skewer Karl. Jessica attacked Emily, who managed to dodge. Feyd himself went for Jessica at first, slashing across her shoulder, then gasping in surprise as Ardan's blade raked his chest. In fury, the leader of the Gray Imperial Legion shoved Ardan with his shoulder, knocking him back and down. Adrian and Emily managed to distract both of their opponents long enough for Feyd to get a clear shot at their leader, which he eagerly took. Sword raised, he stepped over Ardan's prone body eagerly... ...and fell backwards as a massive shadow hit him fully in the chest. The Moorcat had returned with a vengeance, slashing madly at Feyd with its sharp claws. Though the Imperical was quick, he was no match for the Moorcat's speed, and quickly fell under the assault. The eerily silent Moorcat backed off of its prey when both Emily and Adrian brandished their swords at it. The two picked up their fallen commander and retreated. Karl began to follow, but Ardan waved him off. The soldier looked confused. "Sir, don't you want us to finish them off?" "No." Ardan shook his head, grinning slyly. "They were just a small party. We need to find the larger concentration of troops...which they'll hopefully lead us right to. We'll wait until nightfall, then follow their tracks." He patted the Moorcat on the head, but the huge cat just looked up at him with a bit of disdain and settled to the ground. His shifting, rippling fur disoriented the Theocracy commander even in full daylight. "Alright. Let's set up camp." Outcome: Crimson Empryean wins
Crimson Empryean - Healing, 2 days
Gray Imperial Legion - Healing, 2 days Imperica Pariah ambushes The Holy Order The massive Imperical army had remained in the same position for three days. Though Harabec had arrived only a day ago, he had quickly sought to seperate himself from the main forces and thus camped several hundred yards away, at the base of a large hill. As the smoke from their dying fire wafted up into the gray morning sky, Harabec took a moment to reflect on his outcast status. Was it because of human bigotry, or his own? His deep blue eyes traced the rising line of smoke up past the crown of the hill...where, oddity of all oddities, it was joined by a second stream, this one fitful and barely visible to even Harabec's sharp eyes. A puzzled look flashed across Harabec's chisled face, slowly replaced by one of dawning understanding...and cunning eagerness. "Awaken." With the toe of one boot, he prodded Darien Estes into consciousness. Maha-Kala was, of course, already up. The lithe woman stared at Harabec with intense icy-blue eyes. Her pale skin fitted ever so perfectly with the gray sky, Harabec mused. Almost like a work of art. "Our prey is upon the hilltop. They have holed up like rabbits...we will drive them out like hounds." Maha-Kala suddenly bared her teeth in what could be called a grin, but likened more to a predatory threat. Her teeth glistened wetly in the dim sunlight. Darien nervously adjusted his collared robe. "Are you sure? I doubt they'd camp this close to the main Pax army..." The mageling withered under Harabec scornful gaze. Without a word, the Aeriar turned and wrapped his ebony wings around his body before striding toward the far forest. Maha-Kala soon followed, and Darien was left to hurriedly stamp out the fire before trailing after the other two. "This is the plan." Harabec started... ~ Seif Aeccestane stroked his blonde moustaches thoughtfully. His eyes darted two and fro. His free hand twitched ever so slightly. Finally, he picked up a small stone and placed it carefully on a space on a crudely drawn grid. "I win!" He said triumphantly. Giles moaned and slumped back, defeated. Tellis watched in interest as the game of stones completed, not having gleaned a single rule or strategy from watching the two masters go at it. The moves were incomprehensible to the young soldier. Evangeline sat off to the side, her sword in her lap, meditating. Her mind slowly revolved around the intonations of the Sixth Passage, gibberish to anyone who hadn't studied the old languages. However, the peaceful reviere in which she floated was shattered by a dark figure emerging from the bushes. She barely managed to get her sword up to deflect the spearhead as it aimed for her throat. A flutter of massive, dark wings and the demonic figure was on top of her, bashing with his spearbutt this time. She took several blows to her brigadine-plated chest before bodily throwing him off of her. The demon flapped his wings several times to steady himself, landing upright before her. In an instant, Ange's three warriors were up and at arms, ready to throw themselves at the intruder at a moment's notice. "Who are you...what are you?" Evangeline demanded. The demon extended his wings, filling the small grove with filtered morning light. "I am your nightmares." Harabec whispered. "I am the empty place in your soul that cries out for fulfillment." "My soul is pure!" Evangeline yelled, charging at the apparition. His spear haft easily blocked her short sword. As the other members of the Holy Order charged forward, another shadow darted out of the woods to meet them. "The feast has begun!" Maha-Kala cried, lancing out with her claws, catching Tellis in the shoulder and hurling him to the ground. As the young novice writhed in pain, Giles and Seif struck out with their shortswords. Giles easily connected, slashing through Maha-Kala's stomach armor and into her gut, but Seif's attack hissed through empty air. Even injured, the lithe woman was able to leap away from her attackers. As they dashed forward to engage her once again, a bright flash of light assaulted their eyes. "ARG!" Seif cried, throwing up his arm. Giles did the same, though he recovered faster...but it wasn't fast enough. Maha-Kala had her claws in him before he opened his eyelids, and Seif was struck inaccurately by Darien's shortsword. Only faintly injured, he managed to push the mageling back and distract Maha-Kala enough to pull Giles back out of danger. Meanwhile, Evangeline and Harabec were having quite a time of it. While Harabec's spear gave him greater reach, Evangeline nearly matched him in speed and he couldn't bring both ends of it to bear on the woman. Eventually she threw the Aeriar off-balance for a second, then hit him solidly in the temple with her sword hilt and cried out "Retreat! Retreat!" Seif and Tellis, now able to walk, shouldered Giles between them and stumbled out of the grove, fending off the raging Maha-Kala. Evangeline warily watched the dazed Harabec for a second, then took off running herself. Darien sat down heavily. "At least we managed to fend off the spies." Harabec stared at him for a second, then nodded shortly. "For the Imperica, of course." Outcome: Imperica Pariah wins, Holy Order driven off
Imperica Pariah - Healing, 3 days
Holy Order - Healing, 3 days Showdown in the Pass! "Scream for me." The Knight of Volinus reacted to the threat with only the barest of signs. His eyebrow twitched faintly, but to Zalle - for in madness our senses are at their most acute - it was as if he could feel the vibration of the twitch through the air that seperated the two opponents. The stones of mountains, deep beneath his booted feet, rumbled in response, and with nary a sound Zalle found himself slipping forward, caught in a tide of insanity, toward the three interlopers. With some sense of detachment he saw that his francisca was out and at the ready, gripped tightly in his right hand. The blade glinted in the afternoon light as if winking at him. He smiled, sharing a private joke with his weapon. The sun shone high above. As his master charged, Ulluth shook himself out of the trance that the light playing off of the Knight's armor had placed him under, and ran forward himself. Karunti was not far behind, the tall foreigner drawing his sword in a smooth motion that belied his reluctance to fight. Ulluth, however, felt no such thing and yelled as he charged the second guardian, the unarmored man. Easily as well-built as Ulluth himself, the fact that his opponent wore nothing except for sandals and loose breeches of a strange design led Ulluth to believe that he faced a fistfighter. The thought of relying on one's fists alone in combat made the former gambler chuckle, but such was life. As Ulluth himself was about to learn. Karunti's thoughts were somewhat darker, more solemn, than Ulluth's. His mind lingered on his past, unable to pull itself out of the mire of regret that his present had become. However, in this current moment there was another, more pressing matter. The guardian that Karunti had chosen to confront was obviously a mage, by virtue of his robe and book, but what arcane tricks he was about to pull out of his bag Karunti had very little idea. Spellcasters were uncommon in his homeland, and as the wizard began to make strange twisting gestures with his hands, the big man steeled himself against the inevitable, unable to stop his forward motion. The mage's dancing fingers stopped, and thrust toward the charging mercenary with devious intent. Near-invisible waves spread from his hands like ripples in a pond, distorting vision and enveloping Karunti in a tidal wave of heat and confusion. His ears rang, his skin burned, and his eyes watered as the warrior stumbled through the magikal attack, but oddly enough Karunti was reminded of the midday deserts where he was born. The mercenary tore through the layers of the Flame Mage's spell, allowing his momentum to carry him toward his enemy. He got a single glimpse of the mage's surprised countenance through the waves of distorting heat before he hit the wizard. Though too disoriented to properly bring his sword to bear, Karunti thrashed around and scored several hits with the flat of his blade before his target managed to scramble away. Bruised and bloody, the mage spat and cursed before climbing to his feet and drawing his spellbook from a fold in his robe once more. Zalle watched his own battle from outside of his body. Though the madness brought on by the mountains of Felrun had taken control, while in combat he felt as though he could think clearly. The Knight caught the mercenary's first attack on his kite shield, which was badly dented by the heavy francisca, and threw Zalle back with a powerful shove of his left arm. This put him into position for an attack with the longsword, which the Volinian gladly took. Deflecting the slash with his buckler, Zalle swung the axe in a horizontal arc and his blade bit deeply into the Knight's side, but he was thwarted by the thick half-plate armor. Withdrawing his assault for a bare second, the mercenary took the respite to consider the Knight's defenses. The combination of heavy armor and the kite shield was almost unbeatable, unless he got a single unhindered strike in. The Knight closed the gap between the combatants and the fighting began anew, axe against sword. Ulluth had finally realized that he had sorely underestimated his opponent by the time his teeth clicked painfully together for the third time. The repeated blows to his jaw were giving him a headache, and though he swung wildly at the fistfighter, he simply couldn't seem to hit the unarmored man. The bleeding gashes on his enemy's body spoke testament to Ulluth's agility, but he wasn't nearly fast enough to get in a fatal strike. And the fistfighter's repeated light blows, while not enough to fell a man of Ulluth's endurance, were beginning to wear him down. He sighed as the Volinian slipped under yet another shortsword slash, ducking and then rolling to his feet once again to slug Ulluth in the gut. Shrugging off the incoming breathlessness, the former gambler whipped his sword out and cut only a bit of the fighter's hair as the fistfighter again ducked under the scything blade. Karunti's disposition was becoming darker by the moment. The heatwave spell had only served to remind him of his homeland, to which he could never return, and he glared upon the retreating mage balefully. Rage shook his body as he leapt forward, pursuing the wizard, who was desperately attempting to utter the words to a final spell before the mercenary reached him. However, the breath was knocked out of his body as he tripped and fell to the ground a few yards from where Ulluth and the fistfighter were struggling. Unable to return to his feet in time, the young mage screamed as Karunti's sword embedded itself in his chest. Bright red blood spurted out from the wound and pooled in the verdant grass. At the sight of the carnage, Karunti fell to his knees and buried his head in his stained hands, reminded of past horrors no man should ever have to face. The scream of his comrade distracted the Knight for a moment, his eyes flickering to the left, and that opening was all Zalle needed. Grunting, the pale mercenary slammed his shoulder into the Knight's chest and hooked his arm under the straps in the armor. With a violent twist Zalle threw the Knight off-balance and the guardian stumbled backwards, stopping his retreat against a rock outcropping. Beneath the visor, his eyes narrowed and he stood up. Zalle beared his teeth in a feral grin. "The first soul feeds the fires of Hell tonight. Yours is next." Once again, the Knight did not respond. He only renewed the conflict that had been interrupted. Steel on steel echoed through the canyon. Ulluth began to feel the icy grip of fear clutch at his heart. While his arm had begun to tire, the fistfighter seemed as fresh as the moment he had started to fight. Bleeding from several scratches, the Volinian nevertheless came at Ulluth with determination, power, and speed. With a roar, the mercenary frantically swung his sword several times in an effort to keep the unarmored combatant back. It worked...but not for long. "Karunti, you useless idiot, help me!" He gasped during the moment's respite. The foriegner remained kneeling beside the man he had killed, lost in his own remorse. Prepared for a charge than never came, Ulluth quizzically raised an eyebrow as the fistfighter drew his leg back. The man was out of range, what was he... Ulluth pitched foward, his eyes bugging out of his head and his tongue rolling out of his open mouth. The fistfighter had literally FLOWN foward, foot extended, and his rock-hard heel was now implanted deep in the mercenary's gut. Ulluth's sword fell out of his nerveless fingers as the fistfighter followed up on his Power Kick, punching and jabbing at Ulluth's now-defenseless body in a series of increasingly brutal attacks. Finally, several bones broken and his face covered in streaming blood, Ulluth fell to the ground. He hit the grass hard and slipped into unconsciousness before his head even settled. The fistfigher sighed at his downed foe, and turned...only to find that a shortsword had magically sprouted from his throat. Karunti, come to terms with his own regrets, had ended a second life that day. He watched in pity as the gurgling fistfighter slumped, in death, to the clean grass. The final drama played out in the center of the path. Weapon rang against armor as the evenly-matched combatants fought it out tooth, nail and claw. Gasping for breath, the formerly unflappable Volinian Knight found himself hard-pressed for space to wield his sword. zalle kept the fighting to close quarters, using his axe in short, choppy blows. Though not as good with his francisca as the knight was with his sword, the mercenary more than made up for it in battle skill. He was a clever opponent. Zalle slammed his axe blade against the green-trimmed kite shield for the millionth time, putting another dent in the metal. His plan was working. While the Knight concentrated on gaining enough room to strike back, Zalle focused only on his sword. The long blade rose and fell quickly, powerfully. What he needed was a good thrust, but the Knight seemed determined only to slash. Finally allowing the Volinian room to put in a powerful swing, Zalle stepped off for a half-second, rushing quickly back in... ...and wincing in pain as the razor-sharp blade drove itself through his shoulder. Expecting to see defeat written on his opponent's visage, the Knight was startled when Zalle pushed his madly grinning face up to his opponent's. "That was...a mistake." He breathed heavily into the Knight's visor, his white teeth almost blending in with his pale skin. His eyes widened in mad esctasy as he pulled backwards, drawing the Knight by the sword along with him. The Knight, to his credit, only grunted as the francisca's blade drove into his chest, under his arm and through the gap in the strong armor there, crushing his lungs. Zalle let the body of the knight fall to the ground. At first he only stared at the longsword still hanging from his torn shoulder, but after a few moments he savagely ripped it out and tossed it on to the grass. Glancing at Karunti and the fallen Ulluth, he only nodded and spoke two words. "Carry him." Outcome: Torturous Deathknell wins
Torturous Deathknell - 4 days healing Imperica Pariah mock-battles the Black Serpents Arcaile Calore was fed up with his soldiers. Laredo and Cias had been bickering all morning, and even training hadn't knocked it out of them. The two eventually started arguing about inter-Imperica politics, something Arcaile didn't even follow. He drowned out their words with a sigh, squinting across the practice field at the sprawling city of Luun. The Battle Academy was located away from the city proper, on a hill just north of it. With the gentle swell of the hill rising behind him, Arcaile pondered moving his squad out of the city. Tomorrow would probably be good, he thought, putting it off another day. Suddenly, a clash and a thump rent the air, followed closely by a loud yell from Laredo. Arcaile whirled around to find Cias on the ground, rubbing her arm ruefully. Standing over her was one of those bird-men...Aeriars, thought Arcaile in disgust...his raven wings folded around his shoulders and a haughty smirk hovering on his beautiful face. Following closely in the hawkman's wake was a balding, chubby human carrying a sword and a lithe, graceful female with fighting claws strapped to her arms. Arcaile was pleased to see that Laredo had at least stopped arguing with Cias and had his own short sword out and at the ready. "What the hell is the meaning of this?" The commander of the Black Serpents demanded. "We challenge you to a mock battle," said the hawkman, his voice seductive and low. "You will meet our challenge in the name of the Imperica, so that we both may grow and learn." The balding man to his side nervously flipped through a few pages of a spellbook, almost dropping his sword in the process. "Fine! You want a battle, you got one!" Arcaile yelled as Cias clambered back to her feet. "Black Serpents! To me!" He lept forward, charging directly at the dark-winged Aeriar. "Are you ready, Darien?" Harabec questioned his subordinate. The would-be mage shook his head, concern written on his features. "I'm not sure yet. The language of these spells is rather esoteric, and some of the hand motions require both my left and right..." "Forget it!" Maha-kala growled, tensing her legs into a crouch, "Fight with your sword!" The lithe warrior uncoiled from her position and lept to meet one of the incoming soldiers - the fresh Laredo. "She's probably right, my friend." The hawkman murmured, his liquid eyes calmly taking in the wildly charging Arcaile. "Take the one on the left - the girl I struck down with my spear." At the nervous nod from Darien, Harabec himself lept to meet his opponent, his raven wings unfurling behind him. Spear clashed against short sword as the combatants met, locked, and pushed away. Arcaile yelled a wordless battlecry as he thrust with his sword, forcing Harabec to catch the attack on the haft of his spear and flap backwards a step. The leader of the Black Serpents pressed his advantage to the hilt, slamming his sword again and again against the haft of Harabec's spear. Slowly the hawkman was pushed back, toward the academy itself. Laredo found himself facing a wild woman. Though stronger than the dark-haired beauty and armed with his sword and shield, the warrior felt his disadvantage plainly as the swift woman continued her leaping attack with the strange claws she wore. Fortunately for him, the northerner had very little experience herself in actually using the claws in combat, and found herself unable to press her intial advantage in speed and surprise. Finally feigning an overhead strike, Maha-kala managed to lock Laredo's blade in between two of her claws and knocked him to the ground with a well-placed side kick. He fell heavily, uninjured but the breath gone from his body. Darien was having much more trouble. Though Cias' arm was bruised badly from Harabec's initial attack, the girl still had incredible resiliance. His sword clanged uselessly against her buckler. Darien sighed as his opponent's short sword rose for a counterstrike, but as he attempted to get his shield into position his flowing robes tripped him up and he stumbled backwards, out of range of the strike. As Cias tried to get her balance back, Darien hurriedly pulled out his tome and flipped through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. Muttering a few arcane words, he dropped his sword and twisted his fingers into strange symbols. A patch of ground under Cias' feet melted into viscous mud, trapping her foot in the muck. Sighing in relief, Darien put away his tome and attempted to stand - only to find himself slowing sinking into the very same mud that he had used to defeat his opponent. "Perfect." He muttered as the mud enveloped him to his waist and stopped. "Just perfect." Under the sardonic eye of Cias, he pulled out the tome again and flipped through the pages once again, content to wait until the spell wore off. "Just give it up, birdman!" Arcaile gasped as his sword rebounded once again off of the implacable spear haft. He dodged another swift counterstrike, ready with an attack of his own once the spearhead retreated. "Why? You're tiring." Harabec asked the question as if inquiring about the weather. The hawkman stabilized his footing by flapping his giant wings about, then drove forward again. Locking hilt and haft, human and Aeriar half-stumbled half-fell down the gently sloped hill. As the ground leveled off, Arcaile raised his aching arm for another strike. Though sloppy, the attack bounced off of Harabec's shield with great power, knocking the birdman to the right. The expected counterattack with the spearhead came, but what Arcaile was not prepared for was the sudden reversal of the strike, and the spear butt impacting solidly with his gut. The air was knocked out of his lungs and he dropped his short sword, hunched over and gasping. "I believe that concludes our exercise." Harabec stated, softly. The achingly beautiful demihuman gestured to his squadmates and wrapped his wings around himself before walking off toward the academy. Maha-kala bowed to her opponent before following, and the chagrined Darien attempted to clean off his muddy robes before scurrying up the hill behind Harabec. "Bastard mutants." Arcaile muttered, rubbing his hands together as he stood up, as if removing something unclean. Outcome: Imperica Pariah wins, Black Serpents lose
Imperica Pariah - Recovering, 1 day
Black Serpents - Recovering, 1 day |