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[IC] - TIDERULER OF MARAN
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<blockquote data-quote="Archon Basileus" data-source="post: 7156848" data-attributes="member: 6855545"><p><strong>HAGADARK</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>As the effort intensifies, Hagadark’s muscles begin to ache. Nevertheless, the shaman does not give up. Only several hours later the march ends on the edge of a rocky promontory, Ho-og and Klutha measuring each other up after heading the race. Not a single hunter backed up from the challenge. It was the strange sight they met upon arrival that brought the party to a stop. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>As the shaman approaches, closely followed by Tugg-Mhuagra, he sees why the two warriors stopped. Up north, a thousand lights can be seen in the distance, as if the windows of a massive city-fortress remained awaken in vigil. From their walls, shadows take flight, hiding moon and stars as they plunge westwards. Their war cries are known to the alchemist: wyverns. They gain speed, finding their way to the old towers that close the pass to the western flatlands. There, the pinnacles turn red against fiery explosions, as the flying monstrosities dash against the stone walls mercilessly. Another glance at the compass shows there is only one way towards the mark, and that is through the pass. And, to make matters worse, the mark is close, probably within the towers’ reach…</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“Now… what… shaman?” – it’s Ho-og the one that gasps the words first, bending his last word in a tone filled with reverence. Despite not participating in the competition, Hagadark’s resilience seems to have earned the true-blood’s respect, at least, for now… </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: #FF0000"><em>[I’ve postponed rest plans, since the distance got covered still during the night. Right now the moon goes high, being the still hours of darkness.]</em></span></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>MORGRYM/MARIUS</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Marius moves away, dizziness overtaking him through the smog and noise. He blinks as hard as he can, breathes calmly and paces his actions, according to the discipline of his teachings. The beast still cleaves her way through the ranks, though, satisfying herself as the frightened reptilian archers scatter around in fear. Apparently, she never intended to pursue Marius further, being more concerned with making room and some order within the lines.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>The burning captain, though, is another matter. As the fires created by Morgrym swing around the lines, he voices yet another incantation, crazed by pain and fear. Marius understands the clear, controlled draconian phrasing as it rises towards the air of the night. The creature falls down on its knees as it points towards the monk, uttering words so terrible that the soldiers capable of hearing them cower in fear, seeking refuge as far away from the captain as possible. With his last breath, he utters ancient words, finishing his formula with the words “No longer shall your spirit triumph, murderer, for your efforts will be reduced to naught!” He falls down under the heat of the flames, still moaning his dark omens.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: #FF0000"><em>[Oook, will roll against 16 once more! Do not miss this one!]</em></span></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>On the other side, Morgrym raises his commanding voice, and the very sands answer his calling! From the depths, sunk, blackened roots begin to rise, moving the sands as they tie themselves around the attackers’ legs, hips and arms! Two of the creatures are struggling madly to rid themselves of the prison, while the third one is immediately brought down by the roots, remaining half sunk in sand, beyond salvation! The art that hid their shapes is suddenly lifted, and they appear as they are. Having the size of kobolds, they bear darker tones to their scales, and a fairly goblinoid visage, though they’re still undeniably reptilian. Their mouths are disproportionately big, and it seems their jaws are their weapon of choice, as they try to bite the roots away, with little results, though.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>An arrow lands on the chest of one of the creatures, ripping a cry out of it. “Alamera and Borgh, what are these?” – Arvana yells as she runs towards Morgrym, preparing a second arrow. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong><em><span style="color: #FF0000">[So…. Neurotic has the right of it. This desert has enough for you to use. Actually, the roots should be even stronger than usual, considering the background for the area. Also, you can ask any spell substitution you feel would make sense to the situation, of course! In this case, I went with your priority, but Faerie Fire would be fine as well!]</span></em></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Archon Basileus, post: 7156848, member: 6855545"] [B]HAGADARK As the effort intensifies, Hagadark’s muscles begin to ache. Nevertheless, the shaman does not give up. Only several hours later the march ends on the edge of a rocky promontory, Ho-og and Klutha measuring each other up after heading the race. Not a single hunter backed up from the challenge. It was the strange sight they met upon arrival that brought the party to a stop. As the shaman approaches, closely followed by Tugg-Mhuagra, he sees why the two warriors stopped. Up north, a thousand lights can be seen in the distance, as if the windows of a massive city-fortress remained awaken in vigil. From their walls, shadows take flight, hiding moon and stars as they plunge westwards. Their war cries are known to the alchemist: wyverns. They gain speed, finding their way to the old towers that close the pass to the western flatlands. There, the pinnacles turn red against fiery explosions, as the flying monstrosities dash against the stone walls mercilessly. Another glance at the compass shows there is only one way towards the mark, and that is through the pass. And, to make matters worse, the mark is close, probably within the towers’ reach… “Now… what… shaman?” – it’s Ho-og the one that gasps the words first, bending his last word in a tone filled with reverence. Despite not participating in the competition, Hagadark’s resilience seems to have earned the true-blood’s respect, at least, for now… [COLOR="#FF0000"][I][I’ve postponed rest plans, since the distance got covered still during the night. Right now the moon goes high, being the still hours of darkness.][/I][/COLOR] MORGRYM/MARIUS Marius moves away, dizziness overtaking him through the smog and noise. He blinks as hard as he can, breathes calmly and paces his actions, according to the discipline of his teachings. The beast still cleaves her way through the ranks, though, satisfying herself as the frightened reptilian archers scatter around in fear. Apparently, she never intended to pursue Marius further, being more concerned with making room and some order within the lines. The burning captain, though, is another matter. As the fires created by Morgrym swing around the lines, he voices yet another incantation, crazed by pain and fear. Marius understands the clear, controlled draconian phrasing as it rises towards the air of the night. The creature falls down on its knees as it points towards the monk, uttering words so terrible that the soldiers capable of hearing them cower in fear, seeking refuge as far away from the captain as possible. With his last breath, he utters ancient words, finishing his formula with the words “No longer shall your spirit triumph, murderer, for your efforts will be reduced to naught!” He falls down under the heat of the flames, still moaning his dark omens. [COLOR="#FF0000"][I][Oook, will roll against 16 once more! Do not miss this one!][/I][/COLOR] On the other side, Morgrym raises his commanding voice, and the very sands answer his calling! From the depths, sunk, blackened roots begin to rise, moving the sands as they tie themselves around the attackers’ legs, hips and arms! Two of the creatures are struggling madly to rid themselves of the prison, while the third one is immediately brought down by the roots, remaining half sunk in sand, beyond salvation! The art that hid their shapes is suddenly lifted, and they appear as they are. Having the size of kobolds, they bear darker tones to their scales, and a fairly goblinoid visage, though they’re still undeniably reptilian. Their mouths are disproportionately big, and it seems their jaws are their weapon of choice, as they try to bite the roots away, with little results, though. An arrow lands on the chest of one of the creatures, ripping a cry out of it. “Alamera and Borgh, what are these?” – Arvana yells as she runs towards Morgrym, preparing a second arrow. [I][COLOR="#FF0000"][So…. Neurotic has the right of it. This desert has enough for you to use. Actually, the roots should be even stronger than usual, considering the background for the area. Also, you can ask any spell substitution you feel would make sense to the situation, of course! In this case, I went with your priority, but Faerie Fire would be fine as well!][/COLOR][/I] [/B] [/QUOTE]
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