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Sir Gerard d'Montfort - In his own words (a tale of Anka Seth)- Updated Nov 11th
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<blockquote data-quote="Haraash Saan" data-source="post: 5268289" data-attributes="member: 46615"><p>We stood within the perimeter of the battle circle. Morgan had strung his bow and absently strummed its string, all the while staring coldly at the trees in the distance that sheltered our adversaries. Stravarious casually sat upon a near by standing stone that marked the border of the circle, his great crossbow loaded and resting on his lap. </p><p></p><p>Moxadder, hopped from one leg to another and clapped his hand across his chest and arms in an effort to fight the autumn chill. </p><p></p><p>My rapier was in my gloved hand. I swished it twice in impatience. When would they come? </p><p></p><p>And then, as if my thought had prompted them, they came. </p><p></p><p>They approached in a rough line. The remaining Beasts of Zzart in the center and the wizards on either flank. Mkilethje, like most generals, led from the rear. </p><p></p><p>They strode forward in calm and measured steps. They sensed victory, and why should they not? They more than doubled our number. </p><p></p><p>Unwittingly they entered the circle. I voiced a quick prayer to Laster and begged for some luck before joining Morgan, Moxadder and Stravarious in the Thuusian chant that we had learnt the previous evening. </p><p></p><p>“We the brave stand before you mighty Thuus.” Our chant began. </p><p></p><p>“We call upon you to bless this Circle. Those with courage shall be victorious.” </p><p></p><p>A loud snort on the northern edge of the circle caused me to look up. A fine black charger with a white flash upon its nose galloped within the standing stones. The steed looked remarkably familiar. Its rider wore strange armour of gnarled wood and guided the horse toward us.</p><p></p><p>“Those without shall perish.” We called in finality.</p><p></p><p>Was the new arrival friend or foe? I shifted my stance so that if need be I could more easily react to any malicious actions.</p><p></p><p>A sudden gust of wind rushed through the circle, sending my broad brimmed hat sailing off my head and tumbling through the grass, and the standing stones each radiated an unearthly blue light. The Battle Circle of Thuus was sealed. </p><p></p><p>The minions of Mkilethje were momentarily confused. One of the mages regretted it. He was peppered by two of Morgan’s arrows in rapid succession, the bolt of Stravarious and another pair of arrows from Moxadder. The battle had commenced. </p><p></p><p>I leapt forward to meet one of Zzart’s creations. Quick as lightening I pierced it twice. As I suspected its unnatural abilities did not confound us within the Battle Circle. I skipped nimbly away as it clumsily waved a paw at me. It earned two thrusts for its trouble, the final one skewering its throat. </p><p></p><p>“What sort of strife are we in now?” called the rider. The familiar voice revealed him to be none other than Argonne! </p><p></p><p>At the other end of the circle Mkilethje’s conjurors were bewildered as to why the magics they attempted failed. I could see them mouthing incantations and weaving complex gestures with their fingers but nothing seemed to happen. Nothing, that is, until a huge flame erupted from the earth beneath one and enveloped him. He let loose a chilling cry of agony before his charred body slumped forward still smoking. It seemed Argonne had no issue calling forth Foeld’s power.</p><p></p><p>Finally the Dominion’s wizards found something that they could do. Coloured glowing orbs appeared in their hands. These they launched at Argonne, who they realized and been the perpetrator of their comrades demise.</p><p></p><p>An arrow, closely followed by another, whooshed passed my ear. A cat screamed as the two shafts from Morgan’s bow thudded into it in mid pounce. I dove to my left, landing gently on my shoulder and immediately rolled into a fighting stance. There was no need, however, Morgan’s arrows had struck true and the creature lay dead. </p><p></p><p>In thanks I pretended to doff a hat, I had not yet reclaimed mine, but saw Morgan struck by a strange orb of power, staggering him. His bow slipped from his fingers. Two cats bounded forward on seeing his predicament. They leapt high and pounded into his chest spending him sprawling. He forlornly tried to throw one of the beasts of him, but it was no use, they tore him to shreds with claw and fang. There was a sudden movement in my periphery. I twisted aside as a claw lashed out at me. My thoughts of Morgan disappeared as I fought for my own life.</p><p></p><p>Their numbers dwindled rapidly as the Hyrda’s collective fury at losing Morgan was unleashed. Soon only Mkilethje stood before us. </p><p></p><p>I gasped for breath. My left side ached, a wizard had blindsided me with an energy orb that had knocked me from my feet. </p><p></p><p>The point of my sword probed forward, seeking for an opening in Mkilethje’s defense. His underlings lay strewn about the battle field whilst the those of the Hydra still standing encircled the General. </p><p></p><p>My remaining comrades had fared no better than I, each of them bore a variety of wounds, all except Argonne that is. Perhaps it was his armour, or perhaps he had hung back and called upon his earth magics to aid us and hence steered clear of confrontation, I do not know. </p><p></p><p>Mkilethje looked worse than all of us. He had been struck by steel and magic time and time again. Our blades had bitten deep but it he seemed impervious to their effect. Moxadder, Kuruul and I provided a feeble frontline to distract him from the more effective magic of Stravarious and Argonne. So far we had succeeded and they had worn him down considerably. His skin was blistered from a constant barrage of flame conjured by Argonne and Stravarious continued to siphon his strength.</p><p></p><p>The General’s huge club thumped into the space I had recently occupied. If the Dark Elf and the Woodsman could not bring him down soon I would be too fatigue to dodge another thundering swing. </p><p></p><p>Another assault by Argonne and Stravarious saw the giant stagger. I considered calling on him to yield, but thought better of it. He had provided us with no options, and in the end he was our most hated foe, a servant of the Dominion. He deserved no mercy. </p><p></p><p>His massive club swung up, preparing to unleash an almighty blow. It was the opportunity that we had waited for. Moxadder leapt at the Fleshgolem’s back and buried a dagger from each hand into it. Yodfor hacked at his stomach and I managed to drive my blade into his flank. </p><p></p><p>But it was a green ray the burst from Stravarious’s gloved palm that knocked the General down. With a muted groan Mkilethje shivered, dropped his club, and fell to his knees, all strength sapped from him, before finally toppling forward and kissing the bloodied dirt. </p><p></p><p>There was a crack of thunder overhead. The standing stones briefly flared into incandescence before disappearing altogether. We were victorious, but at a dreadful cost.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Haraash Saan, post: 5268289, member: 46615"] We stood within the perimeter of the battle circle. Morgan had strung his bow and absently strummed its string, all the while staring coldly at the trees in the distance that sheltered our adversaries. Stravarious casually sat upon a near by standing stone that marked the border of the circle, his great crossbow loaded and resting on his lap. Moxadder, hopped from one leg to another and clapped his hand across his chest and arms in an effort to fight the autumn chill. My rapier was in my gloved hand. I swished it twice in impatience. When would they come? And then, as if my thought had prompted them, they came. They approached in a rough line. The remaining Beasts of Zzart in the center and the wizards on either flank. Mkilethje, like most generals, led from the rear. They strode forward in calm and measured steps. They sensed victory, and why should they not? They more than doubled our number. Unwittingly they entered the circle. I voiced a quick prayer to Laster and begged for some luck before joining Morgan, Moxadder and Stravarious in the Thuusian chant that we had learnt the previous evening. “We the brave stand before you mighty Thuus.” Our chant began. “We call upon you to bless this Circle. Those with courage shall be victorious.” A loud snort on the northern edge of the circle caused me to look up. A fine black charger with a white flash upon its nose galloped within the standing stones. The steed looked remarkably familiar. Its rider wore strange armour of gnarled wood and guided the horse toward us. “Those without shall perish.” We called in finality. Was the new arrival friend or foe? I shifted my stance so that if need be I could more easily react to any malicious actions. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the circle, sending my broad brimmed hat sailing off my head and tumbling through the grass, and the standing stones each radiated an unearthly blue light. The Battle Circle of Thuus was sealed. The minions of Mkilethje were momentarily confused. One of the mages regretted it. He was peppered by two of Morgan’s arrows in rapid succession, the bolt of Stravarious and another pair of arrows from Moxadder. The battle had commenced. I leapt forward to meet one of Zzart’s creations. Quick as lightening I pierced it twice. As I suspected its unnatural abilities did not confound us within the Battle Circle. I skipped nimbly away as it clumsily waved a paw at me. It earned two thrusts for its trouble, the final one skewering its throat. “What sort of strife are we in now?” called the rider. The familiar voice revealed him to be none other than Argonne! At the other end of the circle Mkilethje’s conjurors were bewildered as to why the magics they attempted failed. I could see them mouthing incantations and weaving complex gestures with their fingers but nothing seemed to happen. Nothing, that is, until a huge flame erupted from the earth beneath one and enveloped him. He let loose a chilling cry of agony before his charred body slumped forward still smoking. It seemed Argonne had no issue calling forth Foeld’s power. Finally the Dominion’s wizards found something that they could do. Coloured glowing orbs appeared in their hands. These they launched at Argonne, who they realized and been the perpetrator of their comrades demise. An arrow, closely followed by another, whooshed passed my ear. A cat screamed as the two shafts from Morgan’s bow thudded into it in mid pounce. I dove to my left, landing gently on my shoulder and immediately rolled into a fighting stance. There was no need, however, Morgan’s arrows had struck true and the creature lay dead. In thanks I pretended to doff a hat, I had not yet reclaimed mine, but saw Morgan struck by a strange orb of power, staggering him. His bow slipped from his fingers. Two cats bounded forward on seeing his predicament. They leapt high and pounded into his chest spending him sprawling. He forlornly tried to throw one of the beasts of him, but it was no use, they tore him to shreds with claw and fang. There was a sudden movement in my periphery. I twisted aside as a claw lashed out at me. My thoughts of Morgan disappeared as I fought for my own life. Their numbers dwindled rapidly as the Hyrda’s collective fury at losing Morgan was unleashed. Soon only Mkilethje stood before us. I gasped for breath. My left side ached, a wizard had blindsided me with an energy orb that had knocked me from my feet. The point of my sword probed forward, seeking for an opening in Mkilethje’s defense. His underlings lay strewn about the battle field whilst the those of the Hydra still standing encircled the General. My remaining comrades had fared no better than I, each of them bore a variety of wounds, all except Argonne that is. Perhaps it was his armour, or perhaps he had hung back and called upon his earth magics to aid us and hence steered clear of confrontation, I do not know. Mkilethje looked worse than all of us. He had been struck by steel and magic time and time again. Our blades had bitten deep but it he seemed impervious to their effect. Moxadder, Kuruul and I provided a feeble frontline to distract him from the more effective magic of Stravarious and Argonne. So far we had succeeded and they had worn him down considerably. His skin was blistered from a constant barrage of flame conjured by Argonne and Stravarious continued to siphon his strength. The General’s huge club thumped into the space I had recently occupied. If the Dark Elf and the Woodsman could not bring him down soon I would be too fatigue to dodge another thundering swing. Another assault by Argonne and Stravarious saw the giant stagger. I considered calling on him to yield, but thought better of it. He had provided us with no options, and in the end he was our most hated foe, a servant of the Dominion. He deserved no mercy. His massive club swung up, preparing to unleash an almighty blow. It was the opportunity that we had waited for. Moxadder leapt at the Fleshgolem’s back and buried a dagger from each hand into it. Yodfor hacked at his stomach and I managed to drive my blade into his flank. But it was a green ray the burst from Stravarious’s gloved palm that knocked the General down. With a muted groan Mkilethje shivered, dropped his club, and fell to his knees, all strength sapped from him, before finally toppling forward and kissing the bloodied dirt. There was a crack of thunder overhead. The standing stones briefly flared into incandescence before disappearing altogether. We were victorious, but at a dreadful cost. [/QUOTE]
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