Carnifex
First Post
Was just listening to the 'Supermoves' track by Overseer from the new Matrix film, and was inspired to write this bit of a story for my Acrozatarim story hour campaign. This bit actually details something from ages back (over a millenia ago) in the history of the campaign world, something the PC's may be able to access through records and magic 
Best read to the song that inspired it, or some similar actiony music
The Shadowstorm shuddered as another blast of lightning struck the armoured hull, the circling dragons gouting forth coruscating energy again. Shouts, cries, hue and confusion, as the crew rolled out the cannon. Shadowclaws danced through the mess, repelling the boarders, slicing grapnels with claws and knives, umbral magic flashing and flitting through the rolling melee. With the thunderous report of the airship's firepower, seeing and hearing was little more than guesswork.
The Reaver leapt from the raised prow down onto the main deck, figures scattering around him as he roared with feral laughter, venomous blade hacking at any and all nearby. Here one of his kin, the betrayer snarling with delight at slaying one of his own, there his swipe cut an armoured sky-pirate in half, not caring that they were providing the diversion for him. Mad visions danced through his mind as bolts rained down around him, piercing his flesh but never enough to stop his unassailable spirit. Tossing the broken body of another one who dared face him aside, he raced towards the stern of the gunship.
The thud behind him told him the hunt was on.
The Magistrate hit the deck running, double-glaive whirring in a wide circle that shed the limbs of sky-pirates. With a fierce gout of shadow-magic, he danced between realities, from barrels to mast, from rope-shade to the flitting silhouette of battling warriors. Ahead of him, the Reaver leapt up onto the stern deck, laughing still, the Dreamweavers corrupting magic rich in his veins and mind. The Magistrate shifted after him, desperate to recapture the thief's acquisition.
The ship rocked again from another blast of draconic lightning.
There before him the Reaver stood on the edge, snagging a drop cord and throwing himself off the craft, dropping almost freefall towards the blasted earth hundreds of feet below, cloak flowing behind him. The Magistrate reached out gracefully with one claw and cut the drop cord.
The Reaver felt the jolt, then the whipping scourge of the metal rope as it slashed and lashed above him. With an irritable snarl, he drew inside himself for power. He might be an outcast now, but he still had the power within.
From above, the Magistrate saw great wings of shadow blossom from the falling figure, massive ephemeral glides that caught the air to bring him gracefully down. With a sigh, the warrior hurled himself straight off the Shadowstorm, without cord or attachment, freefalling downwards towards his prey. The machines on his arm kicked in, pumping combat drugs into his system, filling him with energy.
* * *
The Reaver touched the ground gently, laughing to himself. Some few steps, then thud, and no, it could not be...
He turned to face his kinsman, the Magistrate shaking his head to throw off the daze of impact, having catfallen gracefully from several hundred feet. With a crackle of shadow-power, the proxy pulled himself to his feet, sending the glaive into a lazy spin with one hand. The drugs pulsed through his veins, images dancing across his vision, damping the bone-shattering pain from hitting the ground. "You have something of mine."
The Reaver just smiled unpleasantly, pushing back the cloak to draw another blade in his other claw. With a surge of Dreamweaver-gifted energy, he threw himself forwards.
They met in a clash of blades.
Best read to the song that inspired it, or some similar actiony music The Shadowstorm shuddered as another blast of lightning struck the armoured hull, the circling dragons gouting forth coruscating energy again. Shouts, cries, hue and confusion, as the crew rolled out the cannon. Shadowclaws danced through the mess, repelling the boarders, slicing grapnels with claws and knives, umbral magic flashing and flitting through the rolling melee. With the thunderous report of the airship's firepower, seeing and hearing was little more than guesswork.
The Reaver leapt from the raised prow down onto the main deck, figures scattering around him as he roared with feral laughter, venomous blade hacking at any and all nearby. Here one of his kin, the betrayer snarling with delight at slaying one of his own, there his swipe cut an armoured sky-pirate in half, not caring that they were providing the diversion for him. Mad visions danced through his mind as bolts rained down around him, piercing his flesh but never enough to stop his unassailable spirit. Tossing the broken body of another one who dared face him aside, he raced towards the stern of the gunship.
The thud behind him told him the hunt was on.
The Magistrate hit the deck running, double-glaive whirring in a wide circle that shed the limbs of sky-pirates. With a fierce gout of shadow-magic, he danced between realities, from barrels to mast, from rope-shade to the flitting silhouette of battling warriors. Ahead of him, the Reaver leapt up onto the stern deck, laughing still, the Dreamweavers corrupting magic rich in his veins and mind. The Magistrate shifted after him, desperate to recapture the thief's acquisition.
The ship rocked again from another blast of draconic lightning.
There before him the Reaver stood on the edge, snagging a drop cord and throwing himself off the craft, dropping almost freefall towards the blasted earth hundreds of feet below, cloak flowing behind him. The Magistrate reached out gracefully with one claw and cut the drop cord.
The Reaver felt the jolt, then the whipping scourge of the metal rope as it slashed and lashed above him. With an irritable snarl, he drew inside himself for power. He might be an outcast now, but he still had the power within.
From above, the Magistrate saw great wings of shadow blossom from the falling figure, massive ephemeral glides that caught the air to bring him gracefully down. With a sigh, the warrior hurled himself straight off the Shadowstorm, without cord or attachment, freefalling downwards towards his prey. The machines on his arm kicked in, pumping combat drugs into his system, filling him with energy.
* * *
The Reaver touched the ground gently, laughing to himself. Some few steps, then thud, and no, it could not be...
He turned to face his kinsman, the Magistrate shaking his head to throw off the daze of impact, having catfallen gracefully from several hundred feet. With a crackle of shadow-power, the proxy pulled himself to his feet, sending the glaive into a lazy spin with one hand. The drugs pulsed through his veins, images dancing across his vision, damping the bone-shattering pain from hitting the ground. "You have something of mine."
The Reaver just smiled unpleasantly, pushing back the cloak to draw another blade in his other claw. With a surge of Dreamweaver-gifted energy, he threw himself forwards.
They met in a clash of blades.
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