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Dungeons and Warhammers (updated March 17th)
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<blockquote data-quote="NiTessine" data-source="post: 289950" data-attributes="member: 475"><p>And here, the final installment of Chapter Two. Enjoy!</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>Seven days had passed since the destruction of Ovotsk when the small boat with its survivors arrived in the city of Sarbas. The bodies of criminals were hanging from the trees on the riverbanks, their dead eyes gazing at the monoxyla as it floated past them and into the city.</p><p></p><p>They docked their small vessel at the piers reserved for such, and paid the docking fee, which Franz equated to robbery. Then, Predeslava led the adventurers and the Ovotskian survivors through the city, to his uncle Khuritsa's estate. Khuritsa was obviously a wealthy man. His house, nay, manor, stood on the edge of the city, circled by its own ten-foot wall. The heavy iron gate was guarded by two rather tired-looking guards, who immediately sprung alert as they saw the motley party walking up the path to the gate. As the guards challenged them, spears held at ready, Predeslava stepped forward, announcing their identity and intent. One of the guards, much more respectful now, disappeared inside the compound to get Uncle Khuritsa. He soon returned with a huge bear of a man. The large fellow was in his sixties, as evidenced by the traces of grey in his enormous beard and balding hair. Laughter twinkled in his blue eyes, as he ran up to Predeslava, sweeping her up in a bear hug. His joviality was contagious, and soon, the survivors of Ovotsk were at ease, unburdened by their recent troubles. The journey was over, and they had survived it.</p><p></p><p>They soon found that Uncle Khuritsa was an excellent host. Soft beds, warm meals, and hot baths were soon prepared for the weary travellers. Khuritsa was always there, ready with a tale of the adventures in his youth, when he was one of the Kislev Winged Lancers, elite knights, who fought against the followers of Chaos, the greenskins, and whatever else threatened their northern country. Khuritsa had inherited his father's horse-trading coster, and was now reaping great profits after signing a deal with his former knightly order to supply them with the best warhorses the frozen steppe had to offer.</p><p></p><p>Food and drink were plentiful in Khuritsa's estate, and the next two weeks went past quickly. Then, one day, a runner appeared to the gates, with an important message: the warlord Viseslav had been seen selling slaves in the market. At Predeslava's command, the group quickly armed themselves, and made their way to the marketplace, accompanied by five men of Khuritsa's house guard, and the runner boy, who was to point out Viseslav from the crowd.</p><p></p><p>"He is zat big, bristle-haired man over zere, talking vith the small noble. The nobleman is Liut, a local fop. Killing him probably isn't smart," the boy said, pointing at a pair of men haggling over the price of a slave.</p><p></p><p>The adventurers and Khuritsa's men stealthily wandered through the crowd, fanning out and circling Viseslav, Liut, and their respective retinues, both five men strong. Then, without warning, they attacked. Two of Viseslav's guard were struck down immediately by Frederich and Franz. Kase shot a third on in the shoulder with his longbow, and the man was soon run through by one of Khuritsa's men.</p><p></p><p>The marketplace soon emptied of all but the warriors, as the innocent bystanders tried not to get brained by a stray axe swing. Liut's men joined the fray at the command of their employer, and the adventurers suddenly found they were being outnumbered. The guards of Liut and Khuritsa crossed axes and swords, as Fisibbei was stuck in single combat with their dagger-wielding leader. The fight was soon resolved, as Fisibbei nearly disembowelled him, and then cast a minor curative spell so the nobleman wouldn't die of his injuries.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, Frederich and Franz duelled with Viseslav. The warlord swung his bastard sword with deadly accuracy and strength, and the Sigmarites were hard-pressed to defend themselves. The warrior whirled around, swinging his sword in a wide arc, killing one of Khuritsa's men and forcing Frederich and Franz to retreat. The two then pressed their attack, Frederich scoring a deep wound in Viseslav's side with his sword. This seemed to only enrage the warlord, whose return strike pierced Franz's leg, taking the priest out of the fight.</p><p></p><p>Kase and Fisibbei were fighting against three men, their backs against the wall, when they saw their companion fall. The elf reacted to this by uttering a terrible warcry, and then cutting down his surprised opponent. A few long, running strides took him to Franz, and he began incanting a healing spell. The Sigmarite priest jumped up, his wounds cured, and new life coursing through his veins. Shouting his god's name, he crushed the skull of the last of Viseslav's men.</p><p></p><p>Frederich and Viseslav were in their own world. Steel clanged on steel, attacks were parried and returned. Both combatants were bleeding from dozens of small injuries. There was no finesse in their attacks, only brute strength and uncanny speed. And then, the death came from behind. Franz's warhammer shattered three of Viseslav's ribs with an audible crunch. The agony caused the warlord to momentarily lower his guard, and with a single swipe of Frederich's axe, his head was cleanly separated from his body.</p><p></p><p>The battle was over. Sixteen men lay on the ground, dead. The four adventurers were the only ones standing. The crowd of horrified, but entertained, onlookers parted before a group of armoured, halberd-wielding soldiers. One of them, a grizzled veteran with a face that looked like it had been used as a dartboard, stepped forward and announced:</p><p>"By the lav of Kislev, I place you under arrest!"</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="NiTessine, post: 289950, member: 475"] And here, the final installment of Chapter Two. Enjoy! ---------------------------------------------------------------- Seven days had passed since the destruction of Ovotsk when the small boat with its survivors arrived in the city of Sarbas. The bodies of criminals were hanging from the trees on the riverbanks, their dead eyes gazing at the monoxyla as it floated past them and into the city. They docked their small vessel at the piers reserved for such, and paid the docking fee, which Franz equated to robbery. Then, Predeslava led the adventurers and the Ovotskian survivors through the city, to his uncle Khuritsa's estate. Khuritsa was obviously a wealthy man. His house, nay, manor, stood on the edge of the city, circled by its own ten-foot wall. The heavy iron gate was guarded by two rather tired-looking guards, who immediately sprung alert as they saw the motley party walking up the path to the gate. As the guards challenged them, spears held at ready, Predeslava stepped forward, announcing their identity and intent. One of the guards, much more respectful now, disappeared inside the compound to get Uncle Khuritsa. He soon returned with a huge bear of a man. The large fellow was in his sixties, as evidenced by the traces of grey in his enormous beard and balding hair. Laughter twinkled in his blue eyes, as he ran up to Predeslava, sweeping her up in a bear hug. His joviality was contagious, and soon, the survivors of Ovotsk were at ease, unburdened by their recent troubles. The journey was over, and they had survived it. They soon found that Uncle Khuritsa was an excellent host. Soft beds, warm meals, and hot baths were soon prepared for the weary travellers. Khuritsa was always there, ready with a tale of the adventures in his youth, when he was one of the Kislev Winged Lancers, elite knights, who fought against the followers of Chaos, the greenskins, and whatever else threatened their northern country. Khuritsa had inherited his father's horse-trading coster, and was now reaping great profits after signing a deal with his former knightly order to supply them with the best warhorses the frozen steppe had to offer. Food and drink were plentiful in Khuritsa's estate, and the next two weeks went past quickly. Then, one day, a runner appeared to the gates, with an important message: the warlord Viseslav had been seen selling slaves in the market. At Predeslava's command, the group quickly armed themselves, and made their way to the marketplace, accompanied by five men of Khuritsa's house guard, and the runner boy, who was to point out Viseslav from the crowd. "He is zat big, bristle-haired man over zere, talking vith the small noble. The nobleman is Liut, a local fop. Killing him probably isn't smart," the boy said, pointing at a pair of men haggling over the price of a slave. The adventurers and Khuritsa's men stealthily wandered through the crowd, fanning out and circling Viseslav, Liut, and their respective retinues, both five men strong. Then, without warning, they attacked. Two of Viseslav's guard were struck down immediately by Frederich and Franz. Kase shot a third on in the shoulder with his longbow, and the man was soon run through by one of Khuritsa's men. The marketplace soon emptied of all but the warriors, as the innocent bystanders tried not to get brained by a stray axe swing. Liut's men joined the fray at the command of their employer, and the adventurers suddenly found they were being outnumbered. The guards of Liut and Khuritsa crossed axes and swords, as Fisibbei was stuck in single combat with their dagger-wielding leader. The fight was soon resolved, as Fisibbei nearly disembowelled him, and then cast a minor curative spell so the nobleman wouldn't die of his injuries. Meanwhile, Frederich and Franz duelled with Viseslav. The warlord swung his bastard sword with deadly accuracy and strength, and the Sigmarites were hard-pressed to defend themselves. The warrior whirled around, swinging his sword in a wide arc, killing one of Khuritsa's men and forcing Frederich and Franz to retreat. The two then pressed their attack, Frederich scoring a deep wound in Viseslav's side with his sword. This seemed to only enrage the warlord, whose return strike pierced Franz's leg, taking the priest out of the fight. Kase and Fisibbei were fighting against three men, their backs against the wall, when they saw their companion fall. The elf reacted to this by uttering a terrible warcry, and then cutting down his surprised opponent. A few long, running strides took him to Franz, and he began incanting a healing spell. The Sigmarite priest jumped up, his wounds cured, and new life coursing through his veins. Shouting his god's name, he crushed the skull of the last of Viseslav's men. Frederich and Viseslav were in their own world. Steel clanged on steel, attacks were parried and returned. Both combatants were bleeding from dozens of small injuries. There was no finesse in their attacks, only brute strength and uncanny speed. And then, the death came from behind. Franz's warhammer shattered three of Viseslav's ribs with an audible crunch. The agony caused the warlord to momentarily lower his guard, and with a single swipe of Frederich's axe, his head was cleanly separated from his body. The battle was over. Sixteen men lay on the ground, dead. The four adventurers were the only ones standing. The crowd of horrified, but entertained, onlookers parted before a group of armoured, halberd-wielding soldiers. One of them, a grizzled veteran with a face that looked like it had been used as a dartboard, stepped forward and announced: "By the lav of Kislev, I place you under arrest!" [/QUOTE]
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