Fantasy Fading Flame (In Character)

[Soviet Panda]

This was what he lived for. The rush and roar of battle as the enemy threw themselves at them. But he couldn't do anything, not while stuck behind the walls. How he wanted to leap the battlements and dive headlong into the fray, baptizing the axe Leafa had found and given him, which he had named Lytle Systra, in darkborne ichor. But a warrior had to restrain himself occasionally, and this was one of those occasions. Instead, he contented himself with running from one part of the wall to the next, anticipating when the darkborne would attempt to climb it. As his huge strides carried him from one section of the wall, he couldn't help but feel frustrated at his inability to use the Light. Oh, he could, he had been told he could, had been told he was quite powerful in it. But he knew that in order to use that Light, he would need to down that horrid herb and lose himself. He could not risk that, especially since he did not know what he would do while in that state.

 

[LoneSniper87]

Kaelynn

Kaelynn heard the battle, not feeling it, but feeling that something was up just before the first attack. She braced herself inside, moving to a defensive position next to the caravan. She would have been no good out of those walls, nothing but cannon fodder. And so she waited. And waited. And waited. Until the wall blew open. And Jericho was shot, and Darkborne flooded in like tidal wave. She rushed to meet them, a hushed prayed causing the blade to crackle and spark with electricity as she charged her enemy.

 

[ShadeAlucard]

Alex

Alex looks around and hears the crack of something like a whip and rolls out of the way just as a yellow pointy thing whips past him. He growls to himself as he looks up and sees the assault, the light in the sky, and everything happening at once. 'oh no, this just got a whole lot worse' He thought to himself as he changes from a two blade style fight to a battle axe and shield, but in doing so, hurt himself drastically and he winces in pain, feeling himself lose some connection to the light. He then heard the orders in his mind and nods to himself and takes off into the fray, swinging his battle axe at a couple runners that came at him and then shield bashing a third out of the way as he made his way towards the ray of light. he then felt a bite through his armor in his right leg as one of the runners managed to sneak up on him. He winced in pain before cutting its head off with his battle axe and ripping its head off his leg. 'bastard...this isnt going too well for me' He thought to himself as he continues his rush to the pillar of light. If this was to be his last fight, he would give it all he had and make sure the outpost survives.

Jazmin

Jazmin remained inside the outpost, looking left and right, still determining where she should go before she felt and heard the blast. She ducked under cover and then saw that one of the walls had been hit with what appeared to be heavy artillery. 'oh no, the ones on the wall!' She thought to herself as she urged herself to move, but didn't. She was terrified to move. She then closed her eyes and took a deep breath before crawling out of her hiding spot and then holds her staff high. "Blessing of Light!" She shouted as she attempted to cast an Area of Effect heal over the area that was hit by the artillery. She closed her eyes and prayed extremely hard that it didnt backfire this time and luck seemed to be on her side today. The spell went off without any problems and a circle of light hit the ground, healing most if not everyone that had gotten hit by the artillery shot. that is when she heard and noticed the flying creatures coming in from behind and her eyes went wide. 'oh no, im out in the open' She thought to herself before she took off running, the Area of Effect spell being cut shorter than it should have been

 

[hostage]

Teoippe
Teo gave a sharp nod to Vik, still on the move to join the group. “I never thought I would say that I am glad to see you, orc-spawn,“ she said, then turned to face the forest. Teo raised her sword, thrusting the gleaming blade out to where her eyes pierced the ever-growing darkness. “You may want to raise the alarm, because we’re about to be-“
With a mighty crack, enemy forces broke through the trees, emitting a roar of triumph. “Surrounded,“ Teo finished her thought, internally groaning.

The forest itself moaned as the unit of Darkborne burst from the trees, each figure more terrifying than the last. Teo spotted a pack of foul-beasts, the same ones she had encountered in her scouting trip. Alongside then ran the wolf-kin, complete with gnashing teeth and bright hungry eyes. Teo also saw some creatures she could never have imagined, some slender-shadows and many-armed-whippers. These seemed the most terrifying, as the men along the battlements shrank away. Luckily, Teo caught a glimpse of the huge burning-bright-ball as it came hurtling towards the base and dove into a small crevice. She huddled down, wrapping her arms around her legs and gritting her teeth as the low boom sent vibrations through her. She could feel her very bones shake, but uncurled and rolled into the open, swords flashing.

“Let’s go, orc-spawn,“ she added, rather lightly before meeting a foul-runner-beast with a grunt. The thing evaded her first swipe but she caught it with her second sword and it disintegrated into ‘dust.’ She turned to meet a snarling shadow-wolf, snarling back at it with a similar fervor. “You will never stink up a forest again. Not in this form,“ she growled, then rolled away from its flashing claws and stabbed it’s belly. She chirped as the beast disintegrated. “I will await for the day of which I can watch you rot, dung-licker.“ The woman fought back as many enemies as possible, hurling insults and enraged words like her own bombs, but she could feel herself slowly being pushed back to the group at the top of the battlements.
I- PsychoticOne

 

[Trappy]

Gilligani

Everything happened so quickly. First, the battle ensued, as they all saw it coming a mile away. There were gunfires, cries, men barking orders and all the sounds of battle around him. Gil had planned to stick with the giant Guardian, but as she suddenly focused, eventually glowed brilliantly, before a beam of radiant light was erected where she remained, shooting up into the sky and illuminated the night. At the moment, a surge of Light energy came to Gil, much stronger and potent than what the Guardian offered before. The mage focused and reached out, raising his palm towards the column of Light, and connected. The sheer power was overwhelming, but it brought strength and warmth. The warmth, welcoming and addictive, was unmistakably that of the Network. The Guardian had turned herself into a beacon of Light for them. "Most noble act . . . But to do such a thing in these cursed lands . . ." The mage grimaced. From what studies he had, attempts to expand the Network into frontline regions faced precisely the same threat - the horrors that inhabit these lands are drawn to the Light, the same reason they attack people - as some scholars speculated - the stronger the Light, the more ferocious they become. This certainly added some difficulties to the challenge, but tis a risk they were going to take to make it through the night.

Gil stood and embraced granted power, as an explosion erupted somewhere on top of the wall, knocking debris and some Guardsmen onto the outpost's ground. "Hey!" He called out to anyone in that vicinity from the centre of the Outpost's first level. "Help them out! Check for wounded!" At that moment, familiar sounds of energy discharges could be heard from up above. Glancing up, Gil could see Light missiles launched from the hovering Ring of Light he'd casted earlier, towards some unknown target concealed by the darkness of the night. The Enchanter mumbled the old words, his eyes flared up with green arcane energy, before he blinked and looked again, to see a massive swarm of flying Dark beasts rushing towards them from the rear of the outpost, seemingly making for the beacon of Light and the giant within it.

"HEY! REAR!!!" Gil called out, again, to anyone nearby out of panic, though soon realised everyone was about as occupied as they could've been with the attacks from the front of the outpost. The Ring of Light continued to let loose Light missiles at the airborne swarm, igniting a section of the sky as the missiles evaporated one Darkwing after another. By the time the beasts had approached close enough to represent some sort of an immediate threat, a good half of the original swarm had been reduced to ash by the Ring, which visibly dimmed from the radiant green light it emanated earlier. The remaining half of the swarm persisted, however, and continued to dive for the Guardian. Putting himself between them and the beacon, Gil took a knee, dropped his weapon, raised the shield and his cloak with the free hand.

"Come on out, Little Ones, time to smite the wicked."
Immediately, a flock of pixies rushed out from underneath Gil's glowing cloak, and flew to meet the diving Darkwings. As they met, and the Enchanter cowering behind his shield, there were several bursts of bright light, and a wave of heat, before the remaining Darkwings scurried away, visibly struggling to maintain the swarm, but still bent of assaulting the giant lady.

As he kept an eye out for the winged beasts resuming their attack, Gil casted some enchantment into the beacon of Light that seemed to effect occupants of the outpost as an effort to aid them in battle, while he remained to defend the beacon itself.

Mentioned: Kabboom Epiphany
Interacted:
-Anyone who heard his calls.
-Everyone, with his enchantment: Anyone may manifest a 30-metre Lance of Light to erect from their weapon for 5 seconds. There are a 30-second cool-down between uses. They have access to the Lance for as long as Gil concentrates on the enchantment.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Vera Pavlov
Hearthfall Season - Night
Frontal Grounds, Outpost, Darkwoods

Interacted: Pat ( Midrick )
Mentioned: Gil ( Trappy )
​

Baptism of Steel​

The paladin's crimson eyes peeked the windows of her helmet's optical holes, studying the environment and took note of every details as much as she could. The approach, the exit, where and when to take cover, Vera accounted for these factors, despite the pitch black shrouds of the night's embrace. The moon had discerned herself from the looming conflict and found comfort behind the thick clouds that drifted southward, leaving the world of Light to be consumed by the infringing darkness. While Vera's vision wasn't as astute as her Guardian peers, as well as her finite experiences, she had pushed herself beyond the limit, straining her vision and constricting her muscles. Clenching her teeth, the girl was nervous in the end, no matter how many times she denied it. A tranquil sensation flowed past and surrounded her anxious self.

"Thank you, my friend..." Vera whispered softly to herself.

Vera felt the surge of her friend's Light spell catching up to her, as she stood firm against the wicked wind. The paladin's armor glowed faintly, as if polished by the hands of the Creator. Despite her eagerness, Gil's spell had managed to calm her eccentric state of mind - a subtle reminder to compose herself. Throughout her time in the Samo's Naval Academy, her rabid personality were more or less a habit of the Sarmanian's perpetual passage of rites. Like many other marines, there was a certain drive to get the job done, at the expense of their selflessness and destructive behaviors. A true Sarmanian marine, as the norms dictated, would not shy from battle, and will wreak havoc upon their objectives. They were a force of chaos to be unleashed upon the enemy, in contrast to their more reserved Army counterparts. These facts are evident in the Northern's way of life, having gotten out of a costly separatist war at home. Should a White marine defer from his stereotypical ways of unorthodox aggression, he was no longer considered a marine, or so the saying goes. As those that took the initiatives on the battlefield, the traditions were set in stone, as the Sarmanian Marine Corps was not just a branch of the Sarmanian Armed Forces, but rather a unique community of like-minded warriors. No matter their origins, the truth remains that they are Sarmania's solemn steel. While the paladin lacked knowledge in the Darkborne's history of tactics and strategies, what she could perceive thus far was far from a mindless horde that many have accounted for in tales from the frontiers. They were no less competent in the arts of war as humans do, she thought. This was accompanied by her planned observations, to study the Guardian's plans of battle and their adaptations. Where they would fall short, Vera would hurl herself into the fray, but for now, it was a matter of time to test such resolves from her peers. Despite this, she was quite worried about Gil, of whom she had deemed to be no suit for the situation they were in. Vera took a brief glance at the outpost's higher watch, before turning back towards the forest, reaffirming her faith in the man.

"You must be pretty keen on dying huh?" a voice reached out to Vera, as the paladin tilted her head to greet the man.

"Says the man chasing the one keen on dying... Darkbornes! Watch ou-..." the paladin replied, before hastily parrying the threats before hand, as she witnessed the man pinned onto the ground by the Manwalkers.

There was little time to think as the Sarmanian found herself tackling on five Exmen, of whom were all but human, despite their resembling form of what was once a man.

WHOOOOOOSHHH!

PICH!​

Vera's armasa found her first target in between its shrouded attic. The vibrating ring from her weapon echoed throughout, as the paladin followed up on her throw and proceeded to engage her next target with her metallic gauntlets. No words were exchanged, as the Sarmanian captain propelled herself forward, swerving left and dodging the exman's strike. With a swift adjustment, Vera threw her fist upwards into the creature's abdomen, quickly staggering it, before locking her arm and bicep around its neck. A brief struggle followed, as the thing tried to resist and break free of her locked form, but to no avail. The other exmen hurled themselves at her, but Vera rolled to the side, snapping the creature's neck, before bashing it in with her metallic fists. The dark creature disintegrated into the fleeting breeze. She took a brief respite, before reaching out her arms towards the rest of her opponents. A zigzag streak of glowing metal followed, as the Exmen were swept off their feet, quickly hugging the ground staggered by the paladin's armasa, of which had found its way back into her hands. The javelin morphed into a claymore at the command of the Sarmanian's mere idleness and killer gaze. Leaping at her targets, Vera swung her sword, at the Exmen, of whom were trying to get back up on their feet, but only to be met with cold Sarmanian steel. One, two, then three, her oppositions quickly vaporized into thin air with each swing. An array of metallic streaks and lunges, followed by the swaying dirt and grass, as Vera tried to catch her breath. But there was little time, as her companion was in the thick of it with five other Manwalkers. Switching her blade into a spear, the Sarmanian took a swing and knocked them off the man. Twirling her armasa like a mini-whirlwind, the paladin prioritized the separation of the zweihander from his aggressors.

"So, where'd ya learn to fight anyways?" the man asked, as he got back up.

"...Samo Naval Academy... The White Guards... Crookenrooten Creek... I didn't learn, I just throw myself in the fire and try to feel something from the burning sensations of battle... Ha... Haha... Hahaha!" the paladin chuckled loudly, as she tried to catch her breath, eyeing the manwalkers that surrounded them, alongside the other exmen.

The man eyed the paladin, as if she was just some kid eager for glory - of which she adhered to. Vera didn't deny it, as she herself wasn't exactly sane. It wasn't the training or her time in the Corps, but rather a certain hatred towards the conformity of the Sarmanian society. Behind the beauty and vague promises of a grand life in the Northern lands, her homeland was more or less in a state of moral decay. Corruptions, capitalized fornication and domestic blights, the White land was more tainted than what a Sarmanian uniform has to present. While many women held great positions and are an integral component of the progressive society within Sarmania, it was all a mask of guise for the North's disgusting taste for a lavish and expensive lifestyle, she thought, reflecting upon her time at home before enlisting. It was by mere chance, that Vera had managed to escape the Motherland's grips, but only to be met with dilemmas of her own conflicted guilt. Where she had thought to achieve glory, it had only prolonged her endearment for staying far from home - away from her family's arrangements. Vera took pride in her tomboyish ways, and was compelled to oppose Sarmania's current trends of selling out their women. The Simerian War had taken a toll on the country, where the daughters of Sarmania had to pay for the aftermath of the bloody conflict. By arranged marriages, and political connections, only certain individuals were able to distinguish themselves, and if they were fortunate enough - to advance the nation's outlook and interests. Vera despised such things, as she had been victim of her homeland's outlandish trends and norms of life. There was neither glory nor precedence of equity when these facts carved a scar within each Sarmanian citizens' hearts and minds. Yet, in these troubled times, there were a few of whom were chivalrous enough to be the forefront of the wicked world's progression. Before the paladin could be engulfed in her own guilt and agitated reflections, a voice reached out to her, reeling her back to reality.

"Name's Pat, by the way." the man introduced himself, and was met with the Sarmanian's salute and slight nod, as she had already introduced herself prior to their current situation.

"Pleasure." Vera replied softly, as she flicked her weapon's hilt, turning it into a short spear.

"Something tells me, we made a mistake coming out here. Got a bad feeling about this..." he continued.

"Bad feelings propel our instincts. Let's keep it that way for now." Vera commented, as she lunge her spear forward, keeping their attackers at bay. The two were at a breath's distance, back to back.

The two found themselves exchanging blows against the Darkbornes within seconds, as they gradually wear down the herd one by one. Where the manwalkers and exmen lacked in combat eloquence, the dark beings had made up to it with their cohesive tactics of swarming their prey. They were not to be underestimated as a mere mindless horde, Vera thought, as she fended off those that tried to throw themselves at the two. The two switched roles on occasions, covering their movements, all the while striking down their foes.

"Eight... Seven... " Vera mumbled to herself with each hard hit she sustained from the overwhelming exmen and manwalkers. The countdown pertained to Gil's spell that emanated from her faintly-glowing armor.

Before long, Vera and Pat had caught onto each other's movements and fluidly conformed to their cohesive movements. Where one would engage, the other would keep the Darkbornes at a distance. Back to back, they continued to fend off the attacking packs, thinning the herd as much as they could. Vera was dangerously annoyed by the enemies' relentless attacks. One of manwalker quickly threw the knight into the ground, while Pat was occupied. With quick thinking, Vera's rage moved her hands, switching her spear into a dagger, while her other hand kept the creature from thrashing her vital organs. A few scrapes dotted the paladin's armor, but could not manage to split her open. This only served to further agitate the girl.

"Six..." she said, as a resounding clank of her helmet found the manwalker's skull.

The paladin instantly recovered from her hasty head-bash and nailed the creature's head with her dagger. As it thrashed about to resist, her dagger protruded into spear-form, effectively skewering the manwalker's head through and through, as it disintegrates. Vera had shielded her neck with her hand from another exman's attack, before twirling her legs upwards, spinning herself on the ground and finally managed to kick the creature backwards, before getting back up on her feet. The knight's foot found its indiscriminate heel upon the downed exman's head - crushing it at the sheer momentum of her boots, with much agitation concealed beneath her emotionless armet. Regulations of breath, and extensive physical conditioning were all a part of a Sarmanian marine's life, even in retirement. Etched into the marrows of every one of them, no one could escape their rigid and intensive training. But one thing that many have not attested for was wit, as any other innate nature of those who were born in the Light. With her quick thoughts, the paladin promptly withdrew a metal shard, that had seemed like a couple of broken arrow tips from her pouch, and brushed them lightly. The tips glowed shortly for a few seconds, as it climbed the air, at the behest of Vera's throw. The other exmen and manwalkers swarmed the two.

"I'm relying on your Shield way too much, dear Gil... Heh..." Vera reflected, as she timed the arrow tips' apex climb.

"SALEMA STELA!!!" the girl yelled.

The arrow tips glowed bright red, before exploding. The paladin quickly shielded Pat's neck and head, embracing the man as the two hugged the soil. Lifting her hand, the paladin's back protruded erratically, injuring or skewering the stragglers that got too close to her. Vera had managed to defended both herself and Pat, just barely surviving the onslaught. They shortly recovered from the explosion, dusting off the fragments and pursued combat. Vera's feet collaborated with her movements, as her hands continued to wrestle the Darkbornes without pause - a lean, mean, armored fighting automaton. Bent on the destruction of her foes, the spear-wielding knight poked fro and forth, staggering and neutralizing as many enemies as she could see before her. There was little else to do but breath and carry on.

"These things are starting to get on my nerves! Front!" she announced, as she turned her spear back into a claymore.

Vera took a swing, extending and retracting her blade in between each blow, almost as if her armasa was an animate being, fighting along side her. With each successful jab at her target's body, the paladin would follow up with a punch, and a slash at its neck. It was a series of rinse and repeat, but the Sarmanian had mixed it up with a different combination of approach and movement, as if emulating different individual with each attack. There were no standard manual of arms, when her weapon itself was composed of multiple arms, all in one package. One exman launched itself at her unarmored thigh, only to be met with a strangling constriction, as her armasa lodges deep into its skull, with her pair of well-conditioned thighs acting as a guillotine's lunette. Another found itself filled with holes when trying to tackle her from behind, as the paladin's armor protruded spikes upon her sheer will, with no words to utter. Smashed, were some, mutilated were others, as the mad knight was all but consumed by her hatred for these creatures. There was no remorse nor hindsight, just pure chaos and destruction. Before long, a dozen or more of those that tried to take on her and Pat were already liberated by the wind.

"Four..."

Yet again, the Sarmanian was not satisfied with thus, and proceeded to try out everything she had learned and trained over the years in the Corps. She threw a few more metallic rivets, and detonated them on command. The shrapnel either injured her foes, or simply staggered them, giving her enough time to bring judgment upon the wicked beings. Claymore unfolded its reckoning for the speedy ones, while the dagger-and-spear combination made short work of those that managed to encircle or throwing down to the ground. Pathetic beings, Vera thought, as she continued to bring carnage to her enemies. Thrown, smashed, controlled detonations, and mere fistful of rampage, the Sarmanian was engulfed in rage and annoyance. Even so, she found a certain joy in such things, and with it, the erosion of her sanity. Her claw-like gauntlets found its grasp upon one manwalker's head, having parried a series of its attack, with her sword tricking the creature as her offensive attack, but was all but a part of her defensive capabilities. Her free hand on the other hand, quickly became a tool of war.

"Three..."

As the battle dragged on, Gil's spell was nearing its end. As the numbers dwindle one by one, Vera's blows were becoming more fatal, and her focus ever more fixed on the demise of her opponents. This was accompanied by her expedited movements, and precise strikes. One, two, three, she counted for each attack. The first swing to initiate a reaction from her foe, where they counter, she would reprise her movement, taking in note of their responses. The second, the stagger or surprise, she thought, but tends to dislodge or mutilate her opponent. This would prevent them from counter-attacking, yet even so, when enraged to commit their attacks, the knight would only attempt to stun them. The third, a fatal swing or stab, rough and coarse in its deliverance, but tends to immaculately neutralize her opponent with a decisive strike.

The exmen reformed, and continued their attacks. Vera picked her target and quickly isolated them with a set of swift movements. Utilizing her armasa's spear, the paladin's armament cast the multitude of exmen one by one, as she made her way towards her intended prey. Dragging it with her left hand, the girl threw the creature into the ground, and skewered the thing with her spear. A straight, clean lunge into its skull, followed by a few wiggling of her weapon's tip. The creature twitched fro and forth, despite their lack of emotions, there was one common thing that the two shared - the confinement of suffering. Vera did just that, causing the creature to twirl back and forth in pain. A deserving, but petty return of favor for their disturbance of the Sarmanian. It gradually became more personal for the paladin, as she continued to wreak havoc upon the rest of them.

The Sarmanian extended the her spear again, knocking the others out of her way, as she continued to pick out the exmen one by one. Her concerns were clear, as any of those who were perceiving the sight of her going at it. Before long, she managed to isolate another one. The other exmen persisted on their attacks, but only to be kept away by Vera's spearman expertise, alongside Pat. This time, the knight shoved a spell-cast rivet into the exman's eyes, having stunned the creature with her blade's hilt, of which had repeatedly pounded its head multiple times. Vera promptly hurled the staggering creature into the crowd of other exmen, before detonating the rivet. An array of minuscule projectile scattered from the creature's imploding skull, wounding the nearby exmen, as Vera leaped backwards towards Pat. Landing on a slouched-forward posture, the knight got up to her feet and took a breather, as Pat switched roles with the girl. Vera followed suit, and continued to employ the work of her armasa, aiming at the stragglers that tried to flank her companion. Covering his approach, the Sarmanian witnessed the man's rampage, as she slowly catch her breath with sluggish defenses and attacks. Despite so, the girl's vigilant eyes kept her targets in sight.

One after another, the exmen fell beneath the arms of the two. Complementing each other's forms, Pat and Vera's world had collided with a common cause - the eradication of their enemies. Despite their prowess in battle, the fight was far from over as the rest of the outpost has yet to be relieved from the oncoming threats. There yet lingered a sense of hopeful thinking and optimism, despite the gloomy setting that Pat and Vera have found themselves in. A few more exmen to go, and they would be relieved - for a slight respite. The Sarmanian's armor were all but laden with the scars left behind by her savage foes. Despite their grotesque and frightening form, Vera's drive for battle had spared her from the details of her foe's disturbing forms. Of course, what she bypasses in reality, would surely come around to visit her at night. A walking nightmare, Vera thought, would be fitting to distract her from such thoughts, at least for the time being, as the knight's service was still required. Her consciousness spelled out one thing - she was still alive and breathing. A subtle reminder that she was not relieved of her watch nor was her first battle her last watch. There was no rest for the wicked, Darkborne or the world of Light, a common thing both worlds had shared, despite their contrasting evolution throughout the ages. Perhaps if her company was here, they would make short work of these pesky attackers, but Vera digressed - as she would have no room to show her worth. After all, every Sarmanian Marines were built in the same image. Vera chuckled maniacally at the thought, with a certain satisfied feat of accomplishment flooding her mind.

"...Ha...!
...Haha...!!
...Hahaha...!!!"​

*Translation Notes:
N/A

 

[-robert-]

Leafa

With the blink of an eye, the once peaceful convivial scenery turned into a heated battlefield, creatures imbued with darkness showed up at every corner. Everyone around her began to disperse, some panicked, some retreated in fear, some thrillingly rushed head on onto battle. Regardless of their motive, in the midst of the chaos many didn't notice the tiny figure of the elven child, and she was constantly being bumped into, a small number apologized, but most simply cursed her out. She however was more preoccupied with her two animal friends, Pip inside her now loose and worn out left boot, and Tooth hidden in her near empty quiver. Protectively, she removed both of them from their hideout and carried them to a less populated area, near the outskirts of the ruins. Once there, she laid her two buddies on the grassy ground and gave them a few words of encouragement. "Ok guys, I know this seems scary, but if we stick together and avoid the monsters, we can- eek!"

A bird like screech echoed in the night sky, no stars could be seen as a massive wave of black feathers soared through the sky. Intimidated and frightened, Leafa grabbed a wet leaf next to her and did her best to connect with her inner plant. Sadly for her, her genius, flawless plan didn't work, and three winged darkborne spotted her, immediately striking down to attack at lightning fast speed. The pressure of the situation combined with the little time she had to react led her to simply remain immobile, eyes widened, staring at the trio of Darkwings striking down on her. Luckily for her, Pip and Tooth had other plans that didn't involve the death of their elf friend. With Tooth secured on his back, the baby cavity nibbling on his ear to hold on, Pip ran in direction of the winged creature, and just at the right time, jumped under its wing, on cue, Tooth let go of his ear and went straight for the wing, her sharp teeth clawing in the black feathers. A painful screech escaped the Darkwing as it fell to the ground, Tooth continued to chew on its wing and Pip, after landing, began to furiously scratch its head.

But there was still no time to waste, there were still to other Darkwings to be dealt with. Rapidly, the little elf got up and took out her bow, two precise and lethal shots quickly took care of them. "Ok, we did it... huh? H-hey, stop it you two!" Her heart dropped at the sight of the animal fight, even if the creature had tried to kill her, Leafa couldn't help but to feel empathy towards it, she removed Pip and Tooth, both covered in blood, and set them aside as she slowly approached it. "Hey there... my name is Leafa... what's yours?" With a gentle smile on her face, Leafa extended a welcoming hand to the Darkwing... only to be greeted with a screech filled with hatred... anger... despise. She looked the winged darkborne in the eyes. Rage, hate, emptiness. There was nothing she could do, the darkborne seemed to have such a strong desire to attack and... kill her... but it seemed like it was under so much pain... she knew what she had to do, with eyes shut tight and a heavy heart, Leafa shot the Darkwing.

The Darkwing gave up any sort of resistance as it fell to the ground dead, something similar ocurred to the young elf if you take off the "dead" part, she felt exhausted yet again, it was way past her bedtime, and fighting horrific flying creatures was definitely not very sleep inducing. She gave it her all to fight the sleepiness, so she fell asleep rather quickly.

All she could see was pitch black. Her own thoughts were like chirping birds, flying through the emptiness constantly disappearing and reappearing. She could however, recognize a voice that was not her own, the voice that now had a sense of familiarity to it. As she focused on it, the dim tone grew more loud and comprehensive, as she let go, it grew hushed, and its speech was broken. Feeling oddly drawn to it, she focused as hard she could on the voice, not letting it slip and fade away, soon, the words of the voice were clear.

"Cannot find home... where are you...?" "Wait... who are you?" "Me... do you not... remember?" "No..." "The name I was given... Ko..." "Ko...? Is it really you? But how are you-" "No time... where are you..."

Where she was, how she got there, points of reference, Leafa did her best at giving a detailed description. Her little brain might have not garnered much information, but in was enough, well, she hoped it was.

"We will be there soon..." "Wait Ko! How are you? And how did you find Yellow-Hair? And how am I talking to-"

SCRATCH!

"OWWW!" A small trail of blood flowed down her cheek, in an desperate attempt to wake her up, Pip left a violent scratch on her right cheek, she was about to scold him, but she soon realized his motive, more and more darkborne swarmed the skies and fields, they had to move. "Ok, time to AAA!!!"

She turned around, and what stood there to meet her left horrified. A human shaped darkborne with a skull for a face stood inches away from her. "AAA!" She backed up and fell back on the ground, the creature creeping towards her at alarming speed. Thankfully, she recalled the words of the big man, whom she had met not long ago, she took out the small shiny rock with holes on it and blew as hard as she could.

SilverFlight

(Purple Text = "Dream")

 

[PsychoticOne]

Name: Vik Gonkor
Race: Half-Orc
Height: 5'9
Weight: 178 lbs

Interact: hostage
Mention: Trappy Epiphany Pilgrim59

Spoiler: Music Playing

So much began to happen at once. Of course, Vik expected more stronger foes to show up, but the amount that came in such a short instance definitely caught the half-orc off guard. Vik remained besides the Ciguapa, but switched weapons once more when noticing an aerial threat. He fired off arrows, more than he probably should. It was necessary though, since Vik's accuracy was worse against the Darkwings. Thankfully some would fall after having their wings damaged.

"Let's go, orc-spawn" Vik's companion would say.

Vik turned towards her and drew an arrow, pointing the bow towards the sky. "I'm right behind you" he responds as he releases the arrow. He didn't focus on whether his target was hit or not. He had to switch back to close combat after that last shot, so he brought out his sword once more. He noticed the Ciguapa initiate battle almost immediately. Vik cursed under his breath, but instead of immediately helping her out, the half-orc crouched down and grabbed a vial from his pouch. The odd looking liquid inside was poured all over the orc's blade. Vik's weapon was now coated in poison. After standing, he slashed the air once before advancing towards his companion. It looked like she took care of her attackers with ease.

Vik noticed some people yelling nearby. One of them was the magician he talked with earlier, Gil. The giant was using the light to advantage as well. The Darkwings were mostly dealt with thanks to them, but the handful of remnants were still a threat, so everybody should keep an eye out.

Before deciding to make a move, Vik looked around his surroundings once more. This whole battlefield was just a complete mess. There was a paladin nearby with comrades near her fighting off a bunch of Manwalkers and Exmen, Darkwolves and Darkrunners were getting chewed up as well, but down near the outpost entrance was some Spikethrashers fighting the guards. "Hey, Ciguapa! Over there!" he hollered to his companion and pointed towards the entrance. "I'm sorry, but I need to help them out" he said before rushing in towards the Spikethrashers and outpost guards.

"Over here you disgusting looking things!" he tried getting the attention of the beasts. That way the guards would have some pressure ease off of them. A couple of the monsters roared before charging the orc. Just as Vik expected. They have animalistic behavior, so they were more reckless than the orc himself. Vik immediately halted, and went for an upward slash, uppercutting the first monster's chin and splitting its head into two. As its buddy came to the rescue, Vik made a backstep to give himself space, before lunging in and piercing the monster's chest with the tip of his blade. Now the stab itself wouldn't kill, but as his poison made its way into the body of the Spikethrasher, the monster's body began to noticeably go limp. Vik took his weapon out of the body and watched as the Spikethrasher's corpse fell into the ground.

Vik quickly turned back towards the Ciguapa and waved her over. The guards really needed their help right now.

 

[Soviet Panda]

Wait, the fire ball, he had seen one like it before. "Rottapult" he growled. He thought he had taken care of them all earlier. But apparently he had missed one. That just wouldn't do, not after he said he had taken care of it. Briefly looking at what was going on inside the fort, he decided that it was all relatively under control, with many others there to help with the defense.

Sprinting up onto the top of the walls, he hurls himself into the darkborne with a savage howl. Finally, he would see how deeply Lytle Systra could bite. The short answer was deep. And it's enchantment allowed him to more liberally throw his axe, letting Lytle Systra transform into a two handed axe and carving a path to where the thrown axe lay before shrinking once more to a one hander. The carnage he caused was noticeable, if little else. There was simply far to many of them to make any noticeable progress. Where one would fall, another would take it's place, if not more. He could not get to the rottapult, not like this, not alone.

Redirecting himself towards where the others were, he fought his way to them. "You," he shouted, pointing at no one in particular in between swings, "we fight to rottapult. Kill it." That was all the plan he had, simplicity at it's finest.

 

[Kabboom]

Jericho Audaton

Well, at least things couldn't get worse. They could get weird, but not worse. Not entirely good news, but not entirely bad news either. The perimeter is being held, but that's because all of the heavy-hitters in his group rushed out to greet them at the entrance. The Darkborne have not breached the walls, but that's because none of the siege units have arrived yet, minus that one surviving Rottapult that loosed a shot at him. And now one of the outpost's strongest members just turned herself into a sitting duck with a glowing red sign saying "Here I am" attached onto her head, but that's because she's connecting herself up to the Network.

They're not playing by the rulebook, but they weren't big fans of rules to begin with. Time to switch up the pace. Jericho took a moment to compose himself, as he absentmindedly swatted an attacking Darkwing out of the sky with his pistol's mace form. The Darkwing threat had been mostly contained by the magic ring that the Enchanter had cast above the outpost, further solidified by the extra barrage of missiles shot out from the magical halo, devastating the remainder of the flying critters in a spectacular fashion. The few survivors were mopped up by arrows and gunfire.

The front will be held, instead of the walls. Better suits the mobile group, and probably would be easier to command them effectively, seeing as they're more fit for maneuverable combat, and not the notorious stationary tug-of-war meat grinder battles that the Imperial Guardsmen are known for. Fine melee fighters, but that could get in the way as the amount of ranged Darkborne increase, although with the amount of armor and protective gear he's glanced upon, they should be able to last a while. Plus, if there's any funny business on the flanks, they could always break out and hit it from the outside.

Gritting his teeth and wiping off the blood running down into his eyebrows, Jericho moved forward. His legs feel like they've been reattached violently, and his arms feel like loose screws that might just fall off if he rotated them the wrong way, but nothing he couldn't handle. He's faced worse than this. A lot worse than this. Adrenaline pumping in his veins might carry him enough until he needs serious magical aid. Her Legacy is a godsend in this situation.

Sprinting haphazardly out into the front, where the rest of his comrades are, Jericho braced his Magisteel Halberd closer and counted the shrapnel embedded in his gauntlets. Doing a quick sidestep to the right as Alex rushes towards Aymeline, Jericho lost count at 20-ish and focused on the entranceway. The two Incruscan girls, Terra and Kaelynn, were holding the immediate front, near the staircase. Their colorful lightning was slicing the Darkborne asunder, as well as keeping them at bay. Further ahead, Pat and Vera were doing their thing (turns out Vera is Pat's type or something, those berserkers), keeping attention away from the entrance, making good bait for the gunners on the wall.

Lifting his Halberd up, Jericho simply let it drop at an angle, making sure neither Kaelynn or Terra can stray into the line. His arms don't have enough strength left in them to stop the blow if they do, and he'd hate to bisect one of the girls in the beginning moments of the fight. The double-edged blade of Magisteel: it cuts through everything, including the stuff you don't want to cut through. Thankfully, Terra had enough footing to hold her earthen shield strong, and Kaelynn was busy poking new holes in a Darkwolf's face when Audaton came through, slicing effortlessly through three Darkwolves. Letting go with his rearmost arm, he drew Dante and fired into the horde, scratching a Runner off the field before bringing the hammer end of the Halberd around, smacking two more in the fatal flanks.

Transforming his Dante into mace form, Jericho made a show and tried his best at dual wielding with broken arms. The Runners that got too close had their skull caved in by the gun-mace, while he simply sweeped his Halberd side to side - the Darkborne storming up the narrow staircase were either cut easily, or smacked off the structure down onto the ground below. Some of the Guardsmen give him fire support, manifesting in the form of arrows and bullets digging into the hides of the Darkborne down below.

Soon enough, the immediate entrance was clear of Darkborne. His arms felt like they really had fallen off. Barely standing, he asked one of his Incruscan comrades jestfully. "Don't suppose you guys have any healing powers, huh?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."
"...Oh shit, really?"
"Yes. Really. Hang in there."

Well then. He's feeling better now. Marginally. The important thing is, he's no longer handicapped in terms of mobility. He spoke again, this time as a commander. "Stay here and keep the entrance clear. If you can't do it, get someone who can." And then proceeded to assess the situation. Keeping his eyes peeled on the field before him, he bellowed up to the Guardsmen on the battlements, barely audible over the gunfire.

"Tell the Lieutenants that we're heading out to secure forward perimeter! Focus on holding the flanks and rear! Anything that comes up the sides, kill it!"

Hopefully the order gets passed around.
Midrick ShadeAlucard Pilgrim59 Trappy Octo Girl LoneSniper87

"Fuckin' shit!" the Guardsman Kwelek cursed, as he narrowly gets clipped by a Spikethrasher. Popping back up with a musket in hand, he popped a bullet back in return, nailing one of its tentacles. Being on the second level gave him an unparalleled viewpoint on the battlefield below, but it also made him a more noticeable target. Those newcomer Guardians can really fight. Those two babes are holding the entrance by their lonesome, while those crazy armored dudes wreak havoc further out.

The rookie, Erik, showed more courage under fire this time. Although his aim is shit, he's still useful as a spotter and an ammunition bearer. Passing Kwelek a loaded musket while taking the empty one for a reload, his hands moved like lightning. "I got you, I got you!" muttered the kid.

"Where the hell's the old-timer?" the spearman-turned-musketeer yelled over to Erik as he fired off another shot down into the pack of Runners pawing at the base of the walls. The veteran, Umak, was nowhere to be found. They'd all gotten scattered during the first seconds of the fight, what with them trying to run up the stairs and all. Undoubtedly, that grump must be on the first level, having the time of his life.

This night is gonna get worse, both of them know it.


Clanus

The fighting had intensified quickly, leaving him unable to react in time, other than reach for his sword and stay out of the way, letting the veterans do their thing and run around the place. Once the Darkwings came over and assaulted everyone, however, he'd been keeping himself busy. The rookies who were too paralysed to move, were forcefully moved to safety by the daring scoutsman, swinging his shortsword at the Darkwings swooping in to attack. He'd gained a sizeable amount of claw marks and scrapes on his face and arms, but those are minor. He won't catch Dark from that. Right?

With the Guardians and Jericho doin' their thing, his job was a lot easier. Just a few more stragglers to mop up and--

"Lady! What in tarnation are ya doin'?" Clanus blurted out, upon seeing some lady try and cast a spell on the artillery-struck part of the wall, before running away, paying no heed to the pair of Darkwings in close pursuit. Dashing out and swinging at the pesky flyers, he coerced her to move closer to the walls. And by 'coerce', he meant 'grabbing her by the hand and dragging her with him back into cover'. Either way works.

Now that the dame was out of the way, he was free to talk. "What in the Light were ya thinkin'?!"

ShadeAlucard

 

[hostage]

Teoippe
The muted light of the battlements and Gil’s magic provided an eerie cast across the field of battle. Twisted bodies were illuminated just enough to see the dark blood coating the ground and the stillness of the fallen soldiers. But the battle was not over. Still violence ruled, as Teo’s sword swung, a blur of death. She stumbled over bodies and weathered stones, barely managing to evade the killing attacks of each creature that dodged her own attacks. Not quite a dance, but a game.

Parry, step, thrust, parry.
Slash necks, not stab.
Jab, push, duck.
Watch for the big one, slash.

She twirled around, meeting opponent after opponent. Though her fervor stayed high, she could feel her limbs begin to stagger. Her zealous moves slowly became harder to perform, and the constant pound of attacks upon her body had begun to add up. She was drifting back, dispatching or wounding as many beasts as possible when Vik called for her. She sent him affirmation, then cut her way to the struggling guards.

“I am here,“ she said, then turned to face the group. “Worry not. Fear has a place for the battlefield. Use your fear to fight harder.“ She was not much of a pep talker, but she turned to meet the stream of enemies. Teo managed to fight a swath around the group, then pushed them to finish what they had started. She watched approvingly from the corner of her eye as her companions met the dark-beasts in battle, their whoops encouraging them even further.

Teo eventually returned to her own body, feeling the dropped reserves of her energy. She knew she couldn’t keep up with this. “Hold them,“ she ordered Vik, then bounded inside. She had an idea. Teo found herself on the second level, staring at the giant who had connected to the magic-center. Teo stepped forward, holding her hamd out tentatively. She felt a push as her barriers were broken, and in streamed energy.

At first she welcomed it. Warmth and strength flooded her and she almost laughed, but she felt that something was off. She couldn’t pull away. She frowned and yanked with all of her might, but her body stayed still and the influx of magic stayed steady. It began to hurt. The warmth turned to heat which turned to red-hot-burning. Her legs shook and she dropped to a knee. Teo felt her very soul being overloaded, and a pressure grew behind her eyes. Before she could stop herself, she screamed. A piercing shriek that echoed through her mind and into anybody that could hear it. This was how she would go out? It wasn’t fair. Stuck to a flow of magic like a fly to honey.

I- PsychoticOne Epiphany

 

[Slop]

Ezra, the Mad Scholar
Location: THE Outpost​

Message

"Contrary to etiquette as my brash request might seem, I ask that you impart unto me a fraction of your power. Our erstwhile encounter has left be battered.. and on the verge of breaking, I fear."

Dependance on camaraderie was to Ezra a quality that was every bit as deplorable as it was repulsive in nature; he believed deeply that it alone constructed the genesis of one's undoing, for what lies within the roots of every sentient creature was believed too by him to be the cardinal will to preserve oneself. Withal, profound mental aptitude was not required to acknowledge the dire circumstances governing the situation. Desperate times beget the need to resort to desperate measures, and the distressed scholar was all too aware of the fact that the quick dispatching of these mindless spawns of oblivion took precedence over his frail pride.

"I have exhausted what remained of my light essence, and there are no Network Relay Towers within the surrounding lands. I ask that you permit me to utilise your vessel as a medium through which I shall channel my spells. Rest assured, your prodigious build should more than suffice to accommodate the barrage of assault spells I am soon to release. You will withal experience no unwanted symptoms as your biological functions and defense mechanism will most likely interpret the albeit sudden, familiar sudden surge of energy as an artless and native stimuli."

Epiphany

 

[LoneSniper87]

Kaelynn

A laugh came from the fighter as she stabbed through the skull of a Darkwolf, a halberd coming down to finish it, and some others off. She glanced back to see Jericho, and definitely didn't look good, hopefully he didn't... Shit. This was gonna hurt. She led him away from the bulk of the fighting and set a hand on each shoulder, closing her eyes as she concentrated, channeling her power into helping him. And boy did it hurt.

Both of her arms felt like they snapped in two several times over, her legs felt like they were bound to crumple, her chest felt so sore she thought it had been used as a bridge for a small army, surprised it hadnt yet caved, but, despite all her grimacing and preventing herself from screaming she stuck through it and healed him after a full minute of hell. "You're good!" She said, watching him leave without so much as a thank you, just orders. She went back to the front, raising her spear again.

Kabboom

 

[Unwavering Knight]

Pryonn & Kaatl

"To the battlefield! The front lines!" Amidst the ensuing carnage, a metal-grated voice sang with bell-bright loftiness "Then the edge of death!" Flail raised high, banner raised even higher, a plate-covered behemoth strode with eerie calm "Show this commitment born from casting your life away!" He recited the canticle of the Silver Repiner, his voice ringing over the chaotic happening "Offer your loyalty! Your obedience!" Behind him followed a swarm of gleaming metal-shards, minute in shape but monstrous in number, framing his figure like a corona of silver "Then your very soul!" On his shoulder sat, as usual, the fairy, childish figure tempered by a harrowing gaze that had seen gaping voids "Offer every fiber of your being, raising a triumphant shout!"

"Let's go forth! Prove that we can build ..." he continued to chant as he strode from the outpost's entrance, striding to join the carnage proper "... a pile of corpses that can reach the heavens!" he waded into battle, bleak song intoned with morbid joy.

 

[SilverFlight]

Bron had turned just as Jericho did, the fiery light from the Rottapult's attack illuminating his bearded face. He had just enough time to swear. He heard the shot just before the ball of flame collided with the battlements. Bron let his human form slip. In the shock and damage of the blast his Oni form surged through, protecting him from a horrible fall.
He groaned beside Jericho as he hauled rubble off his body, looking at the ruined form of the bandit that had fired the pistol.
"Did he just shoot you?" Bron asked, indignant on Jericho's behalf. "Little bastard."
He surveyed the commander's head, half darkened with slick blood.
"You're bleeding." Bron said with concern. "Badly." He also suspected the human had broken bones, but there wasn't time to breathe as the screaming cries of the Darkwings descended upon them with the black cloud of bodies.
Kabboom

Bron snorted, "Well, so much for being inconspicuous." He stamped hard, the ground reverberating with the motion. Several shards of the ruined battlements rose around him and shot up into the cloud of Darkwings, forcing them to veer. He sent a few more shots until he heard a familiar reedy sound: The ocarina.
"Don't die!" He yelled at Jericho as the man raced off to support the front line. Bron fought the desire to join him. A promise was a promise after all.
The oni took off in the other direction, following the sound of Leafa's call.
Kabboom -robert-

It was just as well he was in his true form now, because he caught the scent of her blood on the air and followed it straight. The skull-faced Darkborn was bearing down on the little elf, dazed and on the ground.
Bron let out a booming roar and hefted his axe. He closed the distance between them and with one, might overhead swing he cleaved the creature's head clean in half.

There was a moment of silence then, punctuated only by the grizzly sound of Bron pulling his axe free of the Darkborn corpse.
"Now, don't panic," Bron began, being well-used to people's first reactions when met with the giant bull demon that was his true form. "It's me, Bron. I heard you call."
Very slowly, his hand raised while his other replaced the axe on his back, he began to approach her.
"Did it hurt you?"
He saw the cut on her cheek and frowned. "I think I can heal that, if you like."
-robert-

 

[ShadeAlucard]

Alex

'Dammit, at the rate this is going...' Alex thought as he transformed his weapon of choice again to an old favorite battle style of his, using a Kusari-gama, which consisted of a scythe blade on one side, and a spiked ball on the other, connected with a long chain. Alex winces in pain yet again and the tips of his weapons turn black, letting him know he was pushing himself way too far. Alex charges towards the pillar still, turning himself in a whirlwind of death as he twirled the weapon around his body, hitting the darkborne with slicing cuts and horrendous, bone shattering blows from the mace part. He finally reached the pillar of light and stood guard, his weapon in hand for anyone that dared to get close enough for a fight. "Bring it on you damn bastards! I'll send you back to where you crawled out of!"

Jazmin

Jazmin continued to try to get to safety as a hand grabbed hers and basically forced her into cover. Once in safety, the person that saved her seemed a little upset at her and she immediately became teary eyed. "I, i was just trying to heal those that got hit up on the wall...but...but im too panicked to even think straight. im sorry..." Jazmin said as the tears started to flow down her face. 'I hate being so useless here, why on earth did I even ask to come out here if I'm nowhere near prepared to be here?' Jazmin thought to herself

 

[Pilgrim59]

Uri Mayakova
Hearthfall Season - Night
Outpost, Darkwoods

Interacted: Vera (me), Vik ( PsychoticOne )
Mentioned: Pat ( Midrick )
​

An Unlikely Candidate​

Cuddled up in the backside of the late wagon, the drowsy marine awakened from his slumber, only to be met by the cries of war. While the rest of the party were getting acquainted among one another, the man dwelled in his solitary confinement within the boundaries of the weathered wagon tarps and wooden barrels. Yet, despite the resounding alarms of the encroaching battle, the man was rather keen on the status of his portable little barrel, of which was hand-crafted by the carpenter himself. The pungent, yet alluring aroma of mashed barley and Sarmanian potatoes were all that kept the man awake. Sobriety was more or less an inhibition of his capabilities as a brewer, as he withdrew a wooden mug that complemented the small cherry oak barrel and hovered it steadily beneath the tab, of which had unleashed a small flow of whatever he had conjured up during the course of his journey to the outpost. All for himself, and nothing more than to see to the end of his task, the man yet lingered around the wagon, before the sight of scurrying Imperial troops zoomed past him. He kept his composure, despite the chaos, as he took a sip from his mug.

"... What a hassle... Hahhhh..." he sighed slightly, before casting aside his empty mug, and displaced the barrel out of sight.

The knight donned his helmet, and tucked his weather cloak beneath his armor, wrapping it around his neck, as his hand reached out for his armasa. The marine erected the solemn blade into a spear and began pacing himself out of the courtyard, gradually gaining speed as his concoction gave him a little, but distinct kick. The young man had little reasons for putting himself in the current situation, but had made it his mission to accompany his commanding officer - Pavlov. A lapdop, as many deemed him during his time in Crookenrooten, but Uri was more so concerned for the well-being of Vera. The bond that both shared had instilled a sense of insecurity within him, when Vera wasn't around, but in it, he had found his humane side again. The scars of abuses remained with him, but throughout his time in the Corps up until now, it had served to renew his outlook on life. Unbeknownst to his commanding officer, the man had quietly snuck onboard one of the wagon to follow her. A repulsive and creepy move, as one would call it, but Uri cared not for such thoughts. Besides his discreet choice to embark upon this arduous journey into the Darkwoods, Uri was not without a purpose for his Motherland. He had his missions, but the urgency at hand was more of a concern than anything he had on mind right now. It is not without reason for the man to be caught up with the tumultuous event that robbed him of his lazing time.

"There we go..." he mumbled to himself, as the moonshine alleviated his spirit, driving him forward.

Uri eyed the forward section of the outpost's wall, studying the dispositions of his comrades, before grabbing his satchel. Re-arming the archers was his first goal, as he took notice of the Darkwings circling above him. A small section of the airborne foe swooped down on him, keen on his demise. A small zip echoed throughout the courtyard, as the man's spear found its mark in between the head of one, before it disintegrated mid-air. His spear fell onto the ground upon the creature's vaporization, as he hastily slid across the ground, dodging the other Darkwings that were hot on his tail. Performing an evasive roll, the marine quickly retrieved his spear and jabbed forward as his foes came around. He managed to skewer two, with each of his lunge complementing his exceptional speed. Despite his robust appearance in the standard Sarmanian Mark Thirty-Seven plate armor, Uri had taken the liberty to reduce his armor's designated weight, in exchange for his agility. The marine turned fro and forth, tackling on any other Darkwings that dared to trod his path, before making his way towards this distinct archer, of whom had personally see to the end of a Spikethrasher without much trouble, aside from his noticeable lack of ammunition, as evident in his dry quiver. It was exactly what Uri had in mind, having set his course. While he have neither the conviction nor the capability as a marksman, the Sarmanian was at least competent at making arrows, having spent some time as a fletcher back in Karelia. Perhaps out of good will, or his duty-driven thoughts, Uri ultimately gave in to his calling to re-arm the archer, despite his annoyance with making acquaintances.

"You there! Catch!" Uri shouted towards the marksman, before throwing his satchel full of arrows towards the latter.

There was little time for meet and greet, as Uri moved on, having passed the archer his much-needed munitions, and sallied forth towards the outpost's front lawn. There he stumbled upon his kin - with her faintly-glowing armor all battered from the recent encounter with Exmen and Manwalkers. Wasting no time to stagger at the sight of the battle, Uri threw himself in the fray, sweeping the straggling exmen with his spear, before jabbing them one by one with it. Each thrusts were precise and fatal, a testament to the Sarmanian's force of arms once committed. Even without a weapon, a Sarmanian soldier's pride and lust for battle was all but an innate nature of the Motherland's arousal for bloodshed. Despite the fleeting memories and representation of the soft-bellied nation in moral decadence, its armed forces were the only thing keeping it intact from total collapse. Militarized state and hearts of steel, each Sarmanian either in service or a common civilian, was the nation's ultimate product. Unbroken and unerring in their evolution from whence they came, the Northern Principality has nothing to offer but distinguished individuals, driven to do their bit for their homeland and the Tsarina.

"Uri! What are you doing here?" Vera turned to the unlikely familiar visage of the new challenger, as she took a swing to cut down a stunned Exman.

"Wouldn't want you to hog all the glories alone, Kapman Pavlov. The Motherland would resent such unpatriotic and recklessly non-comrade like acts." Uri replied, as he made his way towards his companion.

"So... What's the plan, Kapman?"

"I suppose there's no way to dissuade you of your purpose here? Very well, the more the merrier. We're keeping the entrance clear of enemies. Rules of engagement - Darkbornes expendable. Kamarada stranka*." Vera commented, as she, Uri and Pat took their brief respite.

"Kamarada stranka. Tch! How bothersome..." Uri clicked his tongue, as he cycled his spear, and pointed it towards the remaining oppositions that stood before him.


*Translation Notes:

1. Kamarada Stranka:
Literal translation: "Comrades' Strength". A Sarmanian one-liner for 'strength in numbers'. A reassurance of their will in battle, due to the Sarmanian Armed Forces' doctrinal focus on unit cohesion and battle-buddy system. (See more in FF's Dev Room - Dimitri's Doctrine)

 

[PsychoticOne]

Name: Vik Gonkor
Race: Half-Orc
Height: 5'9
Weight: 178 lbs

Interact: hostage Pilgrim59 Epiphany

Spoiler: Music Playing

The guards managed to do better now that Vik and the Ciguapa came helped as the reinforcement. Although two able bodies aren't enough, the two were proving to be more useful than expected. Vik stacked up a couple kills, but in the midst of battle, he noticed his companion tiring. She did well enough to hold their foes off, but thankfully retreated back with an idea of her's.

"Don't worry, I got it" Vik reassured her as she ran off to carry out her plan. "Oi, lads! Don't go soft on a noobie like me now!" he'd attempt to motivate them. Of course, it worked, but not as much as needed. They were all stressed out after all, but Vik was still at tip top shape. He noticed a Spikethrasher about to sneak up on a distracted guard, but Vik was right on time with a quick jab. The orc pulled the sword out and assisted the nearest guard with a slash towards the Spikethrashers neck. Both creatures cried out in pain and prepared to retaliate, but the poison was quick to halt their performance. This allowed for an easy kill for the guards.

A nearby man called out to Vik. The orc turned and was met with a refill on ammo. The half-orc archer jumped and caught the ammunition with a free hand. Once he landed and took a second to look at his new gift, he smiled under his mask. "Let's do this" he mumbled before stabbing his poisoned sword to the ground and turning towards his enemies. He quickly pulled out his bow and started unloading arrows. The range attacks proved to be very effective with creatures that rely on close combat. The guards made sure to assist the archer by preventing the monsters from going near Vik.

It was going so well until the Ciguapan screamed from the second floor of the wall. Vik turned with concern for his fellow fighter. The orc turned towards the guards and ordered for some rope. Thankfully one of his allies managed to get the item quickly. Vik quickly tied the rope onto the end of an arrow. With hast, he shot the projectile without too precise of an aim. He just needed it to stick onto one of the wooden structures. Once in place, the half-orc climbed up after readjusting his gear. "Hold them off for now! I'll be back" he told the guards. Since they heard the scream alongside the orc, the completely understood Vik's actions and complied with the orders.

Once on the wall, Vik sprinted towards the screams. He noticed his comrade stuck to some magical energy caused by the giant. "Get her away from the light!" Vik screamed. He increased his dash towards the Ciguapan and tackled her away from the light source causing her damage. He couldn't quite hang onto her, so the Ciguapan landed on the wooden floor near the magical source while Vik made a combat roll to soften his landing. Once recovering, he made his way back to the woman and propped her up against the wall. "Stay with me lass" he'd assure her that she's safe now before looking back at the giant.

 

[Trappy]

Maria

The night was calm, and rest after the battle at the Ruins was welcomed, but now they've arrived, just as the weary occupants of the outpost had expected. Maria rushed towards the front gate the moment the Sarmanian paladin - Pavlov, and a few others turned to join the defence. The Guardian threw herself on the perimeter, halting the enemies in their frenzied charge for flesh with the help of her powers, amplified by Aymeline's selfless act. The giantess probably stuck out like a fire in the dead of the night to the Dark fiends. The least they could do is keep the beasts away from her, and that was precisely what Maria planned to do, besides, the Guardian didn't particularly enjoy the idea of letting others, especially the new faces, to out-do her on the field. With the help of Aymeline, Maria was able to channel her power to full, pushing and pulling ranks of Darkbornes at a time and manipulate the battlefield to their favour, bringing enemies into her comrades' attacks to let their strikes be true, and pushing away enemies when they prime to strike her allies. The bardiche in her grip cleaved through and impaled those that got too close, leaving chunks of Dark matter on the blade which slowly disintegrated, emanating a distinctive stench.

With the combined might of Guardians and casters present, as well as various other talented individuals contributing their strengths, Maria was confident they would make it through the horrors of the night.
"Give them all! We are the blessed rampart! None shall past!"
A bolt of bright light screeched through the air above them from the tree-line, before-

*KABBOOM!*

An explosion erupted from on top of the wall where the fireball impacted, right by the entrance, and it caught the attention of many on the battlefield. The Guardian snapped back from the distraction, just in time to reach out and push away a Runner dashing in her direction with her power, before lunging towards the beast and impaling it in the clavicle with her polearm. The Guardian heard a call.
"You," said a familiar individual. It was the Inuin in the group, Buras. "We fight to rottapult. Kill it." A simple message, but she had the idea. The beasts were enjoying the advantages of artillery support. Darkbornes were not to be underestimated. They are no mere roaming beasts, they must be treated as a conscious, sentient enemy capable of strategies. The rottapults need to be dealt with before any significant damage can be done.
"I have you." Maria replied to the Inuin's call. She primed her weapon, feeling power surge through her muscles and let out a bellowing battlecry before started dashing and slashing her way to the trees, towards the direction where she saw the fireball came from.
*Hyah!*


Mentioned: Pilgrim59 Midrick + anyone defending the Front
Interacted: Soviet Panda

 

[hostage]

Teoippe
It was lucky that Vik had heard her. She could feel her body overloading just as he burst in. Teo grunted in pain and pleasure as he tackled her, severing her connection abruptly. The feeling of cool air in her lungs gave her a satisfying reprieve, and she leaned gratefully against the wall Vik had set her up against. “Orc-spawn saving my life,“ she chuckled dryly, then hoisted herself up.

The effects of her Light-snare had worn off as soon as she was disconnected, though she could feel an unfamiliar tingle in her left palm, the one that had connected her to the giant. She was appalled when she realized that her reserves of strength were replenished, howver her head buzzed somewhat. She shook it off, gathering her thoughts and steadying her legs. Teo herself was a bit shaken, but deftly concealed her uneasiness with a smile. “Seems I am all right,“ she noted, checking her limbs to make sure they were all there. “I am not a Light creature, apparently.“

She grasped at her hip, waiting to feel the hilt of her sword, but it wasn’t there. Glancing around, she saw the weapon by the corner. It had skittered away when the orc sent her flying. She pushed herself off of the wall, laying a hand on Vik to steady herself, before moving off to retrieve her weapon. The object was surprisingly light, she noted. Though it may have been her tiredness that led her to believe it would be heavier. Foul blood still covered the blade, and she whistled in annoyance as the material refused to come off.

“A proper thanks is beyond my ability for now,“ she told Vik when she returned to him, sword in hand. “But I shall remain indebted to you, orc.“ Teo placed a hand over her heart, then tipped her head to Vik. She rested a hand along his shoulder, then slipped to the edge of the window. She vaulted over it, dropping down to a foothold and descended to the dirt. Teo raised her sword, turning back to gaze up and wait for her companion. She would fight alongside him until she could find any way to repay his deed.

I- PsychoticOne

 

[-robert-]

Leafa

Leafa quivered in fear as the sinister creature approached her, getting closer by the second. Eyes shut tight, she let out a high pitched scream, awaiting the worst... but it never came. What showed up in front of her however seemed equally as terrifying. A gigantic and muscular figure, his appearance sort of unhuman even. Frightened and panicked, she was about to let out a scream, but before any sound could escape her mouth, a familiar voice reassured her. Bron... she knew that name. The man walked closer to her, moving slowly and carefully, a frown spreading across his face as he got closer to her, noticing the bleeding wound on her cheek. "B-big man? ... Oh, yes, if you don't mind, it hurts... but just a tiny bit!"

The little elf got up from the ground and looked up, Bron stood at almost double her height in his new... form? His looks as scary and intimidating in close view, he looked like a monster straight out of the elven child's nightmares that she had whenever mommy elf forgot to wish her sweet dreams. But, once again, her curiosity had gotten the best of her, with two curious eyes, she swallowed her fear and spoke to him. "...also! How did you get so... this?"

SilverFlight

 

[Pilgrim59]

Vera / Uri / Gil / Maria
Hearthfall Season - Night
Outpost, Darkwoods

Interacted: Maria / Gil ( Trappy )
Mentioned: Margot (NPC)
​

Search and Destroy

Written with: Trappy
​

The Enchanter stood in a defensive stance by the Beacon - his shield high and his weapon at the ready, glowing curiously with a corona of green light and faint arcane glyphs. The darkwings seem to have scattered about with their formation utterly ruined and their number drastically reduced by the defenders' combined effort. This made the aerial threat temporarily addressed. From the corner of his eyes, Gil saw the half-orc, the strange woman, and another figure who slowly, elegantly approached the Beacon.
"Enjoy flexing your tricks to mortal eyes, Gil?" The figure spoke up - woman who wore a familiar face. Her hand clutched humble walking staff, while another was ablaze from arcane tatoos that ran across her arm, a flame that danced upon her palm.

"Madame Lagarde!" The Enchanter uttered. "Well... I don't really get to do things like this very often... But how nice to for us to meet on a night like this!"
"I've taken notice the moment you strolled into this turf young man. What of that glittering cloak and all... Anyways," The mage signaled towards the back, where Gil saw about a dozen arbalests and bowmen bearing their arms, all strapped with quivers and armour, who swiftly made their way for the third level of the outpost and the main tower. "These fellows will watch the sky, and I've got it down here. Go help out the mortals at the Front, boy."

Vera and others went to the Front, they could probably use some extra help - The Enchanter recalled. "Right, certainly. You uh... got it here?" Gil asked, as he traced a glyph in Margot Lagarde's direction with his finger. Her form glowed slightly, signifying the Shield taking place.

The female mage acknowledged the enchantment with a smile, but raised an eyebrow at Gil's statement. "You doubting me boy?"

"I wouldn't dare!"

"Well then, hurry along now."

Gil nodded, fired up a blast at the Ring of Light hovering above the outpost to recharge its energy, then promptly turned and made his way towards the entrance, where he last saw his paladin companion and others rushed towards.

Sweats flowed beneath the Sarmanians' armets, a testament of their long way from home. Where the frigid, yet calming wind of the northern tundras used to be the norms for both Pavlov and Mayakova, was now replaced by the humid breeze of the wicked night. All they have was their wit and feat of arms, drowning away the repulsive environment that was far from comfortable for the two. There was little time to dwell on their thoughts, as Vera hand-signaled Uri to accompany her next move. Raising her armasa briefly, the paladin swiftly swung it towards the ground and raised her other hand into a firm fist.

"Conviction!" she shouted.

A swirl of energy surrounded her and the rest of the Guardians. Energized and renewed in their course, Vera's minor spell had done its job, granting those around her increased strengths and reflexes. While a minor spell, its effects would soon be demonstrated by the Sarmanians, as the White Captain dashed forth, and spun to the side, parrying her opposition's counter-strike. Recovering from her action, Vera swept her feet, arranged her partner's position with hers - aligning their path, almost without thoughts.

Vera made her move, swinging her blade and again, cutting down an exman, while Uri circled around and followed up on her attack - overwhelming the next with the momentum of his movement, of which was accompanied by the prior's Conviction ability. The man grunted as he collided with the exman, with the sheer force of his spear-bash knocking the creature a few feet aback. Like a trebuchet stone battering a castle wall, the surrounding Darkbornes were thrown back. The marines, one by one, accompanied each other's movement and cut down the staggering exmen with ease. Thanks to Vera's ability, their movements were swift and their charge ever lethal with each step. With hindsight, even without the accomplishments of magic, the Sarmanian's cohesive training was a part of their nature. Like a water wheel, each gradual turn was all a part of their purpose, and Vera and Pavlov are the said spokes - ever turning with each attack. Such was the Sarmanian conduct of battle, ever pressing and never shying from each step. But with it, comes the price of their sanity, as a prolonged battle would consume them.

"Kapman! Switch!" Uri shouted, as Vera took point this time, and made her way through the horde, while the prior would mop up the stragglers.

Meanwhile, the Enchanter had just arrived and was making his way down the steep staircase that marked the entrance into the outpost, towards his allies, when his form suddenly glowed and the mage himself staggered as various spikey projectiles collided with the arcane protection enveloping him, letting off bright sparks where they hit.
"By the Saints and Spirits!" Gil exclaimed, as he quickly dashed down the steps and hopped over the railing, cowered and took cover on a side of the stairs, from where he could see Vera in the middle of the fray, seemingly targetted by some Dark fiend shooting spikes, likely the type that fired at him earlier.

"Uri! Evade!" Vera commanded, as the two rolled off their course, barely dodging an array of piercing projectiles that came their way.

"Status?!" Vera shouted across from her at the man, as he tries to get back up on his feet.

"Armor integrity holding, Kapman. I'm up." Uri replied, unlodging a thorn-like dart from his armored wristguard.

From his cover by the stairway, the Enchanter reached out his hand, another touched the soil beneath him, and a wall of dirt put itself between his comrades and the Spikethrasher, pushing up from the ground. Gil went right back to his hiding the moment the magic took effect. "Least I could do." He whispered, and at that moment, a shape approached Vera and the armoured soldier from another wing of the fray.

"Well, if that isn't just... awfully convenient." Maria muttered as she passed by the scene, an eyebrow raised as she watched a wall of dirt and loose stones raised from the jungle ground, providing some temporary cover for the defenders from Spikethrashers.

"Don't cluster up! Spread out and get it! These things don't respond well to multiple targets!" The Guardian shouted towards allies in the vicinity, trying to catch at least the attention of those who were aware of the Spikethrasher threat., before continued fighting her way towards the Rottapult's suspected location.

Vera nodded, acknowledging the lady's words, as she turned over to Uri.

"You heard the commander. Search and destroy. Move out!"

Uri held his hand over his chest, and sprung it forth, doing a salute, as the two spun their armasas. Erecting into its spear-form, the two wasted little time and dashed forth, like a pack of wolves sniffing out their targets. The pair zoomed through the woods, with their armasas trying to catch up. The two ran into some wolves, and runners, of which were met with the tips of their blades. Rinse and repeat, the two armored spearmen threw themselves at the crowd, sweeping and tearing the packs apart. From the robust Northern steels of their weapons, to the hard steels of their heels, the marines found creativities in the darkest place. Evolving their methods of killing as they go, the emotionless knights cleared a path towards the Spikethrashers, of which were waiting for them. Vera approached the first spikethrasher, demanding the audience she deserved, having tainted her armor with residues from numerous darkbornes that she had slain.

"Your little volley stunt is really annoying. Have at me, beast!" Vera shouted, drawing the Spikethrasher to come at her.

The beast growled and unleashed a hail of spikes at the paladin, leaving a trail of kicked up soil and grasses that briefly screened her stand. The sheer amount of concentrated spikes thrown at the paladin were deadly, at least from an outsider's point of view. No one could have survived such a provoked move from the creature. But the clearing dust would digress.

As the dust cleared, the paladin emerged, standing unfazed by the thrasher's volley. The projectiles seemed to have been soaked up by a thick dirt wall - conjured by the armored sword mage.

"Is that all you've got?!" Vera shouted, as she retracts her metallic cover, and studied the frenzied thrasher's engraged display of another charged up volley.

"Uri! NOW!" Vera slid to the side, cueing the entrance of her partner's surprise attack.

While Vera was drawing the thrasher's attention, Uri was already making his way around the creature, using the foliage as a well-concealed detour. The spikethrasher's awareness came too late, as Uri's leap found his destination upon the creature's back. The beast roared and thrashed about, trying to get the man off its back. Uri lunged his armasa onto several parts of the creature's back, severing several nerves, but holding firmly onto his advantage on its back. The beast continued to sway back and forth, but to no avail, before unleashing a volley onto it self to nail Uri in one volley. The marine agile movements complemented his peripheral awareness, as he rolled off the beast, as the Spikethrasher unleashed the volley upon itself.

"He's all yours, Kapman." Uri said, as he took his stance on the creature's flank.

Vera took the opportunity of the creature's dismay and launched herself forth, throwing her spear dead-on at its head. What was once a struggling beast, was slowly fading away with the nightfall breeze, with its residues drifting away and smoldering the white paladins' armor.

"Target destroyed. Let's move on to the next." Vera concluded, as she retracted her armasa.

"Right behind you, Kapman."

"You wanna take on the next one straight on?" Vera asked jokingly.

"What do you think, Kapman?" the man tilted his head quizzically.

"I have faith in ya... Hahaha." she chuckled.

"If you deem me worthy, then I shall try... Orders acknowledged, Kapman..." Uri sighs, as the two moved on to their next target, dragging themselves through the northeastern side of the outpost.

Back at the stairway, Gil took out a short piece of metallic wire, held it up on his mouth and whispered to his paladin companion and the soldier who just took down the one present spikethrasher on the battlefield.

"It's Gil. I got eyes on you two, so I can help a bit from where I am. Just don't have too much fun and go too far from me. Oh, you can reply to this message."

A ringing sensation echoed throughout Vera's ear, as she moved her hands a bit, channeling her Network's surge to clear the static ringing. The voice gradually became clearer in her head, as Vera picked up on her caller's message.

"Thanks Gil! Don't worry, there's plenty of things you can do. Haha! You doing alright up there?" Vera said to herself, as she eyed the outpost from the distant woods.

Well, he was certainly more 'alright' than the frontliners were. By the Light, I feel pathetic - He thought. "Yeahaha... Sure, quite well. I'll make my way to you, eventually." Gil replied to the paladin.

"Hahaha. By the time you do, this war would be over. Haha! Pray tell, Uri and I are looking for those spikey boys. You got eyes on them from here? The foliage is a bit hard to get direct visual, but I can smell them..." Vera chuckled briefly, as she relayed her next message.

"I can try to look for them." Gil replied from the other side. "I'll drop the link for a moment to give it a look, will get back to you with their whereabouts."

"Acknowledge your last. Uri and I will keep our current course."

As the two paladins paced themselves through the woods, Uri can't help but be disturbed by Vera talking to herself out loud. Did the battle finally engulfed her mind? Is she delirious? No, it wasn't that, she seems to be fine, he thought, as he continued to look forward. But his curiosity eventually got to him. The man wasn't versed with these magical abilities after all.

"Uhh. Kapman? Who were you talking to?" he asked.

"It's Gil. He's watching us from the outpost."

"Is this some sort of sorcery?" Uri asked again, intrigued by the utilities of Imperial magic, aside from its combat capabilities.

"Indeed. The Network has it shares of wonders. Similar to that of our fairies." Vera replied.

"I see..." Uri said to himself, as he continued to pave the way infront of him.

While Uri was not a total sucker for the arcane arts, what he had taken in knowledge in the Corps were all unspoken knowledge via fairies and Venelian-encrypted message. He was not familiar with these types of abilities, especially when he spent most of his time making moonshines. This was one of the few moments that he would learn more about the outside world that he used to shut off from. Even more vibrant and intriguing when accompanied by his favorite personnel of interest - his commanding officer. Ever since he met Vera, Uri affirmed these affections and made up to her care with his capabilities in combat and crafts. The Sarmanian captain has always been there to pick the man up whenever he fell out of place, and that was more than enough for Uri.

Growing up in a state where everyone took advantage of his passive demeanor, Vera was perhaps a gamechanger for the man. Where he would follow blindly, Vera would raise questions. Challenges come and go, and with it, Uri had gradually developed his own thoughts and ideals with Vera around. The two had spent much time together since his enlistment, and even more so in battle. Uri was inclined to pick up on these feelings. After all, he was no longer being sheltered and was treated as an equal by her. A big sister, he concluded, was what Vera had become for him. The orphan from Karelia understood these things, and even more so right now, in the middle of the Darkwoods, some thousand miles from home. The young man was even more inclined to do his best to keep Vera safe. But he had his reservations, after all, he wasn't one for plunging into combat like his captain.

Uri reflected on Vera's conversation with Gil. They were close, at least from what he saw back in Crookenrooten. Gil and Vera were part of the primary element for the joint Sarmano-Imperial exercises. The Motherland was less keen on letting her children shed blood in foreign lands, and as thus, his transfer orders were perhaps a curse to some. But Uri had deemed it to be a gift, much like Vera, as both had shared a common sentiment to stay far from their depraved homeland. Being one of the forefront victims of Sarmanian immoralities, Uri carried with him a burden of guilts, and even more so when his big sister figure hangs around other men. He saw himself in Gil, albeit in a brief glance, and was avid in keeping Vera from being approached by other men. He developed this familial over-protective gesture ever since Vera met Gil. As a younger brother, Uri would skin the man alive if he made Vera cry, or something along that line. Extreme to a certain degree, but Uri's ice-cold, apathetic demeanor was slowly melting away. While he did not know it, the man was gradually learning to care, or at least growing feelings altogether.

"How annoying..." Uri muttered under his breath, as he kept his thoughts to himself.

He had his armasa aimed at Gil in his mind. A little brother's protective sentiment.


*Translation Notes:
N/A

 

[Midrick]

​

The darkborne just kept coming. Sure they were relatively weak alone, but they had numbers on their side. He grunted as he sustained another scratch on his arms, he lashed out the exman who had attacked, impaling it on the long blade of the zweihander. After he had buried the the blade up to the parry hooks, he looked over his shoulder and saw three more approaching behind. He turned on his left foot and whipped his body around throwing the exman off his blade and into the three advancing darkborne. "RAAAAAAGH!!!" He roared as he threw the corpse, his breathing had had become heavy in the anticipation and heat of battle, he had began to sound more like an animal with guttural growling and grunting. He then flew on top of the downed darkborne gouging, tearing, and punching.

After he had finished with that group he made a fighting retreat back to Vera's position his superior range keeping the darkborne at bay while he hacked and thrusted. He noticed another Sarmanian joined them in fighting the pests, he heard a foreign language that he could only guess was Sarmanian. he relaxed for a brief moment before looking back toward the two, in that moment of distraction, a manwalker rushed and clamped its decaying, festering jaw down on his arm. "FUCK!!!" he screamed as he his arm being lacerated by the hack saw like teeth, his jaw clamped as acombination of pain and rage forced him to snarl. he brought the plate where his forehead would be down onto the bone of the decaying things head. he felt the crack but the pain didn't register, the damage to his arm had been done, even though his steel bracer had protected from the worse damage, his forearm looked like it had been mauled, and blood trickled down to his left hand and off his arm. the other darkborne decided that was the cue to renew the attack again, and swarmed Pat.

he felt a burning sensation in his arm where he had been bitten. and was to busy fighting off the first manwalker, but after he had created enough separation saw that his arm had wrinkled and blackened, as well as emanating a bright orange glow, instead of feeling fear he felt a surge of power, as the rest of the ten darkborne approached, he cocked his left arm into a ninety degree angle like he was flexing, and the orange darkened into a dark red and he punched outward toward the manwalker, after a second the manwalker was completely immolated, it flailed and screamed, its mutated and ruined body being scorched and blackened even more. The darkborne jumped and scrambled backwards at the sight of the burning darkborne. His grimace had turned to a wicked grin, he moved forward and the darkborne resumed the attack, he had abandoned his defensive stance for purely offensive henker stracht* and went on a blistering attack against the darkborne. He killed two of the exmen with two horizontal swings of his sword. He faced the the 8 darkborne without fear, and they swarmed him. He stabbed one and bashed another, but they had him surrounded, he felt some fog in his mind, and began feeling words form. Wyald fire. he thought to himself although he did not know the meaning or reason he knew these words but soon realized what the could do. Now both arms took on the odd charred appearance, but this time an omnidirectional wave of fire extended three feet around him, the darkborne not wanting to share the fate of their late companion jumped back, creating separation. Pat had enough time to wind up, and swing his sword with maximum power, his accuracy was sufficient enough for him to behead three of the darkborne with one swing. He began a frenzied blitz of cuts against the remaining darkborne. His precision was a major part of him winning, faking cuts into thrusts to open the darkbornes already crumbling defenses. With a shriek one of the exmen pounced, Pat lowered his left shoulder and launched upwards, tabletoping the exmen and coming up with a one handed thrust, impaling the exmen behind the first one. He grabbed the ricasso of the blade, and shoulder checked the exman violently, he then turned while grabbing the blade of his sword, holding inverted, and executed a morden stracht** on the last exmen, burying the cruciform hilt into the side of its neck, then removing it. He was breathing heavy, and let the swords blade rest on the ground, all around were darkborne already beginning to decompose into whatever goop it was that constituted them. He then surveyed himself, his left forearm had stopped bleeding for the most part, but was caked in drying blood, and the skin still looked mangled, he had three distinct claw marks on his right bicep that had spiraled more blood down right arm, his cheek was scratched and bruised, his left thigh had been cut somehow during the fight, and now there were blood stains in his pants. Fuckin hell, I cannot catch a break. he thought as he trudged through the forest tracking the paladin and her accomplice.

the bodies stopped in a clearing where the two had recently killed a thrasher. "Well, good to see you kept busy." he said with mock enthusiasm, his left arms screaming had dulled down to a throb, he stoped in front of both of them before planting his sword in the ground and taking off his helmet, exposing his sweaty hair. "So what's the plan o captain my captain." he continued with the sarcasm as he ran his hand through his hair trying to dry it as best he could.

Spoiler: Skin transformation

Pilgrim59


Translation notes

Henker stracht* (executioner's strike): A technique/striking style that sacrifices defense for crushing strikes and offensive power

Morden stracht** (murder strike): Technique that uses the hilt as a piercing weapon while holding the blade.

 

[Pilgrim59]

Vera Pavlov / Uri Mayakova
Hearthfall Season - Night
Outpost, Darkwoods

Interacted: Pat ( Midrick )
Mentioned: Gil ( Trappy )
​

Re:Bound​

Where the two Sarmanian marines were brisking through the woods without pause, a distinct movement in the foliage caused them to pause. Vera slouched forward, bending her knees, as if crouching, while her free hand curled up and briefly tugged at the air downwards. Her hand signal prompted Uri, of whom was also on his guard, to lower himself beneath the bushes, as the two silenced their movement swiftly like a pair of metallic statues planting themselves into the soil. The noise grew ever louder, as Vera tried to make sense of their adversary's approach. Turning over to Uri, she slowly lifted her arm and pointed towards the general direction the noises were coming from. The man circled around, and took refuge behind a tall tree, with his armasa retracted, making ready to ambush the unknown figure. Before long, a voice, coarse, but amiable in its deliverance, was well-received by the Sarmanian captain, of whom was twirling her index finger to signal Uri to rally on her. The promised threat disappeared, as the two was met by the zweihander, whose brisk stroll through the woods alone, as well as his faintly fading conjurations were evident of his recent deeds. If that wasn't enough, the dark smudges and dusty residues that clung to his attires were proofs of his late encounter with a Spikethrasher.

"Well, good to see you kept busy." he said, nonchalantly stemming his sword into the ground, as he took respite among friends.

There was a certain challenge in his choice of words, much to Vera's gladness. Uri on the other hand, did not share the same thought, believing that it was better for Vera and him to take care of the threats alone. The man was wary of strangers, especially those that did not share the same uniform, and even more so when he took note of the berserker's bloody state. Studying Pat from head to toe, Uri was no more inclined to let the man get in the way of their current mission. At this point, he only viewed the warrior as a liability, of whom was covered in numerous wounds. Out for himself in a selfish world full of troubles, Uri was never one to care. But as his antagonistic sentiments grew, his commanding officer would counteract his habitual resentments.

"We do our bits. Judging from your attires, I could only conclude you did not stray far from our accomplishments." Vera said.

"So what's the plan, o' captain my captain?" Pat spoke, as he removed his helmet, having settled his two-handed sword beside him.

She took heed of the man's efforts and complimented it subtly beneath her simple words. Despite her explosive personality, the Sarmanian captain had her share of public relations, and even more so an innate ego when she herself was raised in a noble family. Where Uri perceived the man to be a dragging corpse, Vera on the other hand did not hesitate to lend her Sarmanian hospitality. Reaching into her rear pouch, the paladin withdrew a self-packed field care kit and paced herself towards the man.

"You won't do us any good bleeding out before the fight is over. Hands." Vera remarked, as she disembarked her armasa, and examined Pat's arms.

Starting with his thigh, the paladin began her work. She studied the man's form briefly for locations of massive hemorrhage, before tearing a small hole in his pants with her armasa, unveiling a series of crimson lacerations, of which were left in the dark. The shrouded moon, accompanied by the screened darkness was of little help for both of them.

"We need to minimize our signature. One light source only. Uri! I need one of your fairy." Vera said, prompting Uri to waltz over to her with a fairy in his hand.

Uri grabbed a small pebble-sized crystal from his pouch and ignited it with the help of a flint. The crystal glowed at the spark of the man's attentive hands, emanating and shining upon the trio with a faint reddish glow. Vera was now able to see Pat's wounds clearly, and continued to operate. Uri stemmed his armasa into the ground and attached the fairy to its hilt, turning his weapon into a stationary lamp. He backed up and settled beneath a tree, awaiting Vera to do her work.

"Much obliged." Vera thanked Uri, as her eyes and hands attended to the berserker's wounds.

Vera sprinkled some salista powder over the man's wound, giving it a few seconds to settle, before applying pressure upon the affected area. Her hands coordinated with her treatment like clockwork, as she placed a set of hard-pressed gauze onto the bloody regions and quickly wrapped it up. Vera checked the man's face, reaffirming his respiratory systems were in order, before moving on. The man was sweating, but they all were, and he was standing after all, she concluded, as she checked on his pulse. If anything, from the way his helmet was still intact, to his sarcasm was more than enough to confirm that Pat was still able-bodied - sparing her from treating a delirious patient. Tightening the man's thigh with a clean set of bandages, Vera's creative knots turned out to be in the shape of a neatly-tied bow. Despite Pat's burly and lusty form of a warfighter, his bandaging were all covered in bows, decorating his attire quite wittingly adorable. It was almost as if Vera was mocking him, by embellishing him with her girly bandages. A warrior covered in pretty bows, she chuckled inwardly. But despite this, Pat was at least spared from the fate of a leaking human barrel. There was little else the paladin could do to fully-treat the man on the field. That was a job for the other specialized Guardians, outside of her field of interests. While it was common for many Sarmanian White Guard to possess the standard field care procedures, that was all there was, lest they deny the corpsmen and doctors of their jobs.

"There ya go. Good as new, or at least that'll keep your organs from falling out. Since you're so keen on dying with us, we'll be moving on. Should you die, we'll make sure to give you a proper burial, you have my word. Haha! We'll head north and take care of the next Thrasher. Hopefully Gil can guide us through, lest we end up in Kolomea..." Vera chuckled beneath her helmet, an attempt at a joke to alleviate their spirits. There was no reason for her to dissuade someone from wanting to lend a hand to take down a common enemy. Every thought and effort counted, she concluded.

Vera took off, signalling the two to follow her, as she took point. Springing her armasa into a spear, the girl was keen on utter destruction of their next target. Uri retrieved his armasa, and took the red fairy into his palm.

"Try to keep up. I would hate to bury you before we're done here..." Uri remarked, as he crushes the red fairy in his palm, killing the light between the two of them.

"Play nice, Uri. No one's getting buried tonight." Vera shouted back, as she continued to walk forward.

"We'll see..." Uri mumbled, as he turned away from Pat and chased after his officer.


*Translation Notes:
N/A

 

[PsychoticOne]

Name: Vik Gonkor
Race: Half-Orc
Height: 5'9
Weight: 178 lbs

Interact: hostage
Mention: Pilgrim59 Trappy Epiphany

Seeing the Ciguapan got up easily as if nothing happened led to Vik settling down. It would have been a shame for the poor girl to be in terrible condition. The half-orc looked back at the giant's light. "Looks like she's fine" he'd blurt out before turning back towards his companion. She'd have already moved on, already ready to fight on. Vik ran to the edge of the wall and looked out towards the gate he defended. It looks like a couple heavily armored looking paladins came to the rescue to defeat the spikethrashers. "Looks to me they got it under control" Vik assumed before pulling back.

The half-orc looked back at the woman as she gave him her proper thanks and spoke of her debt towards him. "Let's discuss this after the battle is won, yeah?" Vik suggested before following her out of the window. The orc made a combat roll following the landing. It was easier on his knees this way. "Speaking of which, I never got your name" he'd say to the Ciguapa. "You've might have heard me mention mine when speaking to that mage earlier" he'd reference Gil. Now that he thought about it, he should be nearby. Perhaps the man needed the two's assistance.

"We should go. We've got a lot more work to do." Vik redrew his blade and examined the poison coating. There was still a bit left to be used. The orc mercenary adjusted his tricorn hat before looking back at the Ciguapan and inviting her to advance alongside him.