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Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4108901" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2c: The Village of Dunover</strong></p><p></p><p>“Hello?” shouted Vlad.</p><p></p><p>The house appeared shut and intact, but Vlad received no response.</p><p></p><p>As they approached the house, they were assaulted by a cacophony of animal-like screeches and howls. A group of naked, filthy villagers rushed from around the corner of the building. They growled and slavered, charging forward with lust and murder in their eyes. </p><p></p><p>“Try not to hurt them!” shouted Vlad. “They’re Milandisians!”</p><p></p><p>Ilmarė sighed. “Fine.” She pointed at a cluster of the crazed villagers. “Îdh!”</p><p></p><p>Four of them stumbled in mid-step and collapsed into the snow, unconscious.</p><p></p><p>Dril pointed at Kham. “You may want to tell him that.”</p><p></p><p>Kham had dismounted and was swinging Fleshripper overhead, shouting like a madman. It was difficult to discern who was crazier: the villagers or the val.</p><p></p><p>“He’s gone mad again!” shouted Vlad. “Ilmarė, do something!”</p><p></p><p>Ilmarė shook her head. “I can’t stop him.” A villager was nearly sawed in half by Kham’s blow. “I can just get some of these pathetic fools out of his way.” She pointed at the villagers again. “Oltha!”</p><p></p><p>Four more of the villagers froze, oblivious to Kham’s butchering behind them. They stopped gibbering and turned to look at the elorii.</p><p></p><p>“Get inside that hut,” said Ilmarė. “And lock the door. It’s not safe out here.”</p><p></p><p>The four villagers turned and walked into one of the open homes. Then the door slammed shut behind them.</p><p></p><p>Kham ran Fleshripper through an old woman. Then he kicked her corpse off of the blade.</p><p></p><p>“Well, at least they’ll be safe inside,” said Vlad.</p><p></p><p>They could hear a mournful howl inside the hut. Only the shadows of figures locked in struggle could be made out through the block glass window. </p><p></p><p>As Ilmarė’s magic wore off, the villagers turned on each other. Blood splashed on the window. A few more shrieks and screams later, and the hut was silent once more.</p><p></p><p>“I’m not so sure that was the better choice,” said Dril.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4108901, member: 3285"] [b]Herald of the Yellow King - Part 2c: The Village of Dunover[/b] “Hello?” shouted Vlad. The house appeared shut and intact, but Vlad received no response. As they approached the house, they were assaulted by a cacophony of animal-like screeches and howls. A group of naked, filthy villagers rushed from around the corner of the building. They growled and slavered, charging forward with lust and murder in their eyes. “Try not to hurt them!” shouted Vlad. “They’re Milandisians!” Ilmarė sighed. “Fine.” She pointed at a cluster of the crazed villagers. “Îdh!” Four of them stumbled in mid-step and collapsed into the snow, unconscious. Dril pointed at Kham. “You may want to tell him that.” Kham had dismounted and was swinging Fleshripper overhead, shouting like a madman. It was difficult to discern who was crazier: the villagers or the val. “He’s gone mad again!” shouted Vlad. “Ilmarė, do something!” Ilmarė shook her head. “I can’t stop him.” A villager was nearly sawed in half by Kham’s blow. “I can just get some of these pathetic fools out of his way.” She pointed at the villagers again. “Oltha!” Four more of the villagers froze, oblivious to Kham’s butchering behind them. They stopped gibbering and turned to look at the elorii. “Get inside that hut,” said Ilmarė. “And lock the door. It’s not safe out here.” The four villagers turned and walked into one of the open homes. Then the door slammed shut behind them. Kham ran Fleshripper through an old woman. Then he kicked her corpse off of the blade. “Well, at least they’ll be safe inside,” said Vlad. They could hear a mournful howl inside the hut. Only the shadows of figures locked in struggle could be made out through the block glass window. As Ilmarė’s magic wore off, the villagers turned on each other. Blood splashed on the window. A few more shrieks and screams later, and the hut was silent once more. “I’m not so sure that was the better choice,” said Dril. [/QUOTE]
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