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Tsunami's Story Hour: Legions of the Damned! (Updated? Whaaaa?)
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<blockquote data-quote="Breakstone" data-source="post: 704151" data-attributes="member: 481"><p><strong><span style="font-size: 12px">Chapter Four</span> </strong></p><p><strong>The Storm</strong></p><p></p><p>Keith dragged the bandits to Aberdale’s stables, relieving them of their weapons and armor. He tossed one into a pile of hay, and with a resounding slap, woke the second.</p><p></p><p>“Wha- huh? Huh?” the half-orc grunted.</p><p></p><p>“Where are the bandits attacking from?” Keith demanded, pinning the bandit to the wooden wall. “Tell me!”</p><p></p><p>The half-orc simply grinned, revealing an arsenal of jagged teeth. “I won’t tell you nothin’, human!”</p><p></p><p>Keith took a deep breath, dropped the bandit, and reconsidered his options. “How about this?” he asked, “You tell me the bandits’ strategy, and I let you go, free of charge.”</p><p></p><p>The half-orc’s brow furrowed for a moment as he mulled over the proposition. Keith waited patiently, hands spread before him.</p><p></p><p>“Eh… okay, human. You got a deal. Five of us are gonna attack from the north, along with our leader, Oizuk. The rest o’ us are gonna attack from the west. You happy now?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” Keith spoke, stepping to the side. “You are free to go.”</p><p></p><p>The bandit shuffled out the door, leaving only a dirty glance in Keith’s direction.</p><p></p><p>Outside, Arudan’s trained ears perked to the sound of heavy foot steps. His keen eyes picked up the burly shape of a half-orc sprinting across the middle of town. With a shrug, a pull, and a <em>twang</em>, the bandit was down, an arrow soundly buried in his back.</p><p></p><p>Keith sighed. “I’ve got to give that elf a talking to…”</p><p></p><p>Friday came.</p><p></p><p>High above, clouds collected. The sky darkened. Thunder roared. Condensation collected, amassed, and finally formed a single drop of water, which hurtled towards the earth below.</p><p></p><p>Kenzo absently scratched his thinning hair as a rain drop slammed into the dust near his feet. “A storm is coming,” he announced.</p><p></p><p>“’Tis unlike any storm I have seen before,” Uel pondered, glancing warily at the dimming sky. “It’s almost… unnatural.”</p><p></p><p>Keith turned to face his troupes. Once he had commanded an army of his own, filled with skilled warriors and keen blades. But now, his battalion was simply a village of peasants, situated in make-shift towers and simply armed with sticks and stones. The storm in the distance growled, a monstrous beast lurking above. Spirits were down, and a thick fog of anxiety clouded the minds of the villagers. Keith scratched his chin and licked his lips. He knew exactly what was needed.</p><p></p><p>“You know something?” he questioned the villagers in a deep, booming voice, “Those bandits don’t stand a chance! They think this is a simple raiding mission! They have no idea that you, my friends, you have been trained, have been guided, are prepared to fight! Only a dozen hairy, half-bred <em>brutes</em> against <em>us!</em> Yeah, I say we’re going to send them running with their tails between their legs!”</p><p></p><p>Smiles broke out, and a cry rose amongst the townsfolk- only to be silenced by an enormous crack of thunder, so loud it shook Keith down to his bones.</p><p></p><p>But not his spirit.</p><p></p><p>“Hell,” he cried, “even the GODS are with us!”</p><p></p><p>A ragged cheer grew into a thunderous roar, as if to rival the storm itself.</p><p></p><p>Keith turned back to the forest with a worried look in his eyes. He had a bad feeling about this…</p><p></p><p>At sundown, Lyman was the first to spot them.</p><p></p><p>“The bandits!” he cried, “The bandits are coming!”</p><p></p><p>And indeed, like a shadowy blight upon the earth, the bandits seeped from the forest. Almost all were half-orcs, contorted faces barely visible in the dimming light. The readied their weapons, snuffling, shouting, and beating their chests. A man on a horse rose before the masses, wielding a wicked scythe and sinful grin. On his head, worn like a crown of bloodied royalty, sat a helmet of oriental design.</p><p></p><p>"Oizuk!" Keith gasped, "He's the thief who stole Kenzo's helmet!"</p><p></p><p>The bandits and the villagers faced each other, neither making a first move. Tense. Wary. The air was thick with anxiety. Like the calm before a storm.</p><p></p><p>Lightning streaked across the clouds, blinding fingers spreading wide to grasp the sky in an all-encompassing hand of light. Before eyes could clear, the battle had begun.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Breakstone, post: 704151, member: 481"] [B][SIZE=3]Chapter Four[/SIZE] The Storm[/B] Keith dragged the bandits to Aberdale’s stables, relieving them of their weapons and armor. He tossed one into a pile of hay, and with a resounding slap, woke the second. “Wha- huh? Huh?” the half-orc grunted. “Where are the bandits attacking from?” Keith demanded, pinning the bandit to the wooden wall. “Tell me!” The half-orc simply grinned, revealing an arsenal of jagged teeth. “I won’t tell you nothin’, human!” Keith took a deep breath, dropped the bandit, and reconsidered his options. “How about this?” he asked, “You tell me the bandits’ strategy, and I let you go, free of charge.” The half-orc’s brow furrowed for a moment as he mulled over the proposition. Keith waited patiently, hands spread before him. “Eh… okay, human. You got a deal. Five of us are gonna attack from the north, along with our leader, Oizuk. The rest o’ us are gonna attack from the west. You happy now?” “Yes,” Keith spoke, stepping to the side. “You are free to go.” The bandit shuffled out the door, leaving only a dirty glance in Keith’s direction. Outside, Arudan’s trained ears perked to the sound of heavy foot steps. His keen eyes picked up the burly shape of a half-orc sprinting across the middle of town. With a shrug, a pull, and a [I]twang[/I], the bandit was down, an arrow soundly buried in his back. Keith sighed. “I’ve got to give that elf a talking to…” Friday came. High above, clouds collected. The sky darkened. Thunder roared. Condensation collected, amassed, and finally formed a single drop of water, which hurtled towards the earth below. Kenzo absently scratched his thinning hair as a rain drop slammed into the dust near his feet. “A storm is coming,” he announced. “’Tis unlike any storm I have seen before,” Uel pondered, glancing warily at the dimming sky. “It’s almost… unnatural.” Keith turned to face his troupes. Once he had commanded an army of his own, filled with skilled warriors and keen blades. But now, his battalion was simply a village of peasants, situated in make-shift towers and simply armed with sticks and stones. The storm in the distance growled, a monstrous beast lurking above. Spirits were down, and a thick fog of anxiety clouded the minds of the villagers. Keith scratched his chin and licked his lips. He knew exactly what was needed. “You know something?” he questioned the villagers in a deep, booming voice, “Those bandits don’t stand a chance! They think this is a simple raiding mission! They have no idea that you, my friends, you have been trained, have been guided, are prepared to fight! Only a dozen hairy, half-bred [I]brutes[/I] against [I]us![/I] Yeah, I say we’re going to send them running with their tails between their legs!” Smiles broke out, and a cry rose amongst the townsfolk- only to be silenced by an enormous crack of thunder, so loud it shook Keith down to his bones. But not his spirit. “Hell,” he cried, “even the GODS are with us!” A ragged cheer grew into a thunderous roar, as if to rival the storm itself. Keith turned back to the forest with a worried look in his eyes. He had a bad feeling about this… At sundown, Lyman was the first to spot them. “The bandits!” he cried, “The bandits are coming!” And indeed, like a shadowy blight upon the earth, the bandits seeped from the forest. Almost all were half-orcs, contorted faces barely visible in the dimming light. The readied their weapons, snuffling, shouting, and beating their chests. A man on a horse rose before the masses, wielding a wicked scythe and sinful grin. On his head, worn like a crown of bloodied royalty, sat a helmet of oriental design. "Oizuk!" Keith gasped, "He's the thief who stole Kenzo's helmet!" The bandits and the villagers faced each other, neither making a first move. Tense. Wary. The air was thick with anxiety. Like the calm before a storm. Lightning streaked across the clouds, blinding fingers spreading wide to grasp the sky in an all-encompassing hand of light. Before eyes could clear, the battle had begun. [/QUOTE]
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