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The Raid of Horadrim
It was early eveninng in mid-September. Outside it was raining. The temperature had dropped by at least ten degrees, and you could see the sentries' breath as they exchanged hurried words on their patrol, wondering how much longer they had to walk around in the cold and the rain before Commander Noir told them to come in before they caught their death of cold. Surely no one would be sleeking about in the rain.
Inside the fortress, it was a different story. In the main hall, a warm fire was blazing, there was an exellent meal on the table, venison stew, roasted boar, even a pheasant or two. There were barrels upon barrels of ale and more mead than an army of Horadrim could drink in a lifetime. There were animal skin rugs on the floor, most of it bear, that were still blood-stained; a testiment to the successful seige of the fortress. Concubines from local villages were dispersed about the room. Beautiful women, fair-skinned with long blonde and brown hair, almond-shaped eyes, and hour-glass figures. Not to mention a few exotic beauties, members of the former kings harem that were sent to the fortress to entertain the men while they waited for battle; most of which were clustered around a magnificent throne, a hand-crafted oak chair with gems inlaid around the arms and across the head board crowned with an enormous elk rack. The throne was occupied by Commander Noir, a man of incredible stature, standing about 6' 3" with a rugged face, long black hair that was tied back to keep it from getting entangled in the fastenings of the velvet cape he'd taken off of one of his victims. His mouth, chin, and neck were shrouded by his beard, so big it was a wonder that he could even eat the meal that his new-found harem girls were feeding him. He'd shed his usual armor in favor of animal hide clothes that were straining at the seams across his chest and starting to buldge around his middle. His arms were toned and scarred, remnants of battles past. If not for his muscles and the sword that he had leaned against the arm of the throne, it would be impossible to tell that he'd ever been a soldier.
Many of the other men followed his example, though a few still kept their weapons on them. One warrior still kept on his armor, still had both of his swords on his belt, and even had his sheild leaning against his leg. He quietly observed the others through his right eye, his left was closed tight, as if the light itself hurt the eye. He wore a look of disgust as his eyes traveled about the hall. Finally he snapped.
"You people digust me. You sit here eating and dirnking, getting fat and enjoying your few "creature" comforts", he said looking at the nearest concubine. "You let your blades rust and your bows dry while there are villages to the east and to the south that are wealthier than this, just waiting for us to take them. It's a wonder that the Gods haven't turned themselves against us."
"Hold your tongue, Odin," Commander Noir said nonchalantly from the throne. "You are on the field of a great victory. Y--"
"A victory of almost two months past. Two months of sitting in this fort. Two months wasted. I'm surprised that no one has tried to take our victory from us."
"No one is going to attack us in the rain, so calm yourself before I--"
At that moment, one of the sentries burst through the doors, arrows sticking out of his back.
"Raiders...Southerners. They came out of...out of nowhere."
Odin looked over at Noir, who had blanched and was too frightened to react. Odin rushed out of the hall and toward the front entrance, followed closely by several of the others. The southern raiders were starting up the steps as the Horadrim warriors came through the front doors in force. Odin jumped off the steps onto the nearest raider, landing with one foot on the raiders chest, the other on his hemet, burrying his sword into the raider's face.
The battle that ensued was brutal. Less than half of the Horadrim defended the fortress against batallions of the raiders. The air was filled with the sound of metal clanging against metal, the screams of arrows as they shot through the air, and the death yells of warriors as they fell to the ground. Odin charged through the raiders toward their Commander, coming just outside of striking distance before being hit.
Pain--unimaginable pain--falling--must get up, get the commander--pain seemed to grow--shoulder on fire, hurts to move--legs won't work--falling again--blackness--must fight--can't get up--pain--darkness--nothing.
The Arena
Odin came to, the pain in his shoulder was even worse than he remebered. It was too intense for him to even to scream. The room he was in was so dark that he wasn't sure whether his eyes were open or not. It was cold and damp on the stone floor where he was lying, it almost felt like a cave. He tried to get up, but was in too much pain.
 Elochai Sammael · Sat Aug 12, 2006 @ 09:00am · 2 Comments |
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Jump Distance: 120 m
Jump Ceiling: 45 m fwd; 180 m stn
628 lbs. /875 lbs. fully equipped
Targeting: Hunter 7 HiTrak Series 3
10 max. total
Elochai Sammael · Thu Aug 10, 2006 @ 08:45am · 0 Comments |
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RPC Bio:
Name: Samayel
Alias: The Twilight Assassin
Age: around 25
Race: Oni-ka
Birthplace: Stiklestad
Armaments:
Skygger Kriger:
A sword forged by Kovas, God of war, from the remains of seven Velnias on the Anvil of Fury which Damien keeps in a cross-shaped case bound in black cloth. The blade resonates with a demonic bloodlust and is inscribed with runes that burn a fiery red in combat. Its dou-blade is blue-silver in color and glows in the moonlight, growing brighter as the witching hour approaches then dulling as it passes, returning to normal at dawn's light. The words "DEATH TO HEAVEN" are inscribed on the guard.
Various other blades
Armor: Damien's clothes are made of threads of Cavorite/Vibranium alloy. It is light, yet strong, strenghthening itself with every hit it takes, and completely silent. His gloves are made of Uru plates and Inetron fibers, they can absorb and redirect any energies placed upon them and are practically indestructrable.
Abilities:
Hydrokinesis: The ability to control water, he can freeze, vaporize, and animate water, using it as both a weapon and a shield.
Electrokinesis: The ability to control electricity, he can generate bolts of lightning, static electricity, and even electromagnetism, he has even been known to use it as a means to travel.
Aerokinesis: The ability to control air, he can use it to deflect and redirect objects that are thrown at him and use it to glide for short distances.
Cytokinesis: The ability to control one's own cell growth, he can quickly heal minor to moderate injuries, but about a day to heal major ones (complete bodily penetration, ect.)
Psychokinesis: Similar to psionics, he can use brain waves to generate corporreal objects for short periods of time or move objects around.
Autobiogenisis: The ability to automatically regenerate lost body parts, as liong as his brain isn't destroyed, he could even regrow his whole body in a few days.
Lygokinesis: the ability to control chakras, or natural energies, he can emit pulses, waves, or beams of energy by utilizing the aethereal planes and plexuses.
His familiar, Bithsem, an incarnation of De Bliksem, God of the storm. She increases Damien's electrokenisis abilities and can integrate with his swords or armor, allowing him to move with incredible speed.
Elochai Sammael · Thu Jul 20, 2006 @ 05:18pm · 1 Comments |
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Last week I went to A-Kon. It was one of the most dull cons I've ever experienced (with the exception of Shio). Except for the Penicillin-Nano concert, nothing really happened, they didn't even have DDR sad .
Last year, I'm not if there was a concert or not, but at least there was the Night of Fire and more interesting panels. The highlight of my Kon was sitting around with some random people I met there ahd hanging around Crazy Asian Man's table. Oh well, I was able to scam a pre-reg pass, so at least I could go to the dealer's room and the game room.
Elochai Sammael · Mon Jun 19, 2006 @ 08:40am · 0 Comments |
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"Happiness can subside, but frustration never lets go"
You have been awfully mistreated in your life by your fellow peers and feel a growing frustration towards your life and your inability to do anything about it. Since no one has ever really been there for you, you bottle most things inside. And that is quite a lot of pain bottled up too. Deep inside you yearn for many things; feelings for affinity, for the world to improve, for people to stop being judgemental amongst other things. Yet your hope in improvement is very low, and believe you only have the power over yourself. When you are in larger crowds you tend to get irritated by the prescence of others, so you keep to yourself. Those who know you are probably aware of the hate you carry, but you rarely do anything about it.
Elochai Sammael · Fri Apr 21, 2006 @ 05:16am · 0 Comments |
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You are an assassin.
That means you are a proffessional and do your job without mixing any emotions in it. In your life you have probably been hurt many times and have gotten some mental scars. This results in you being distant from people. Though many think that you are evil, you are not. What you really are is a person, trying to forget your pain and past. You are the person who never seems to care and that is why being an assassin fits you good. At least, that's what people think. Even if you don't care that much for your victims, you still have the ability to care and to generally feel. It is not lost, just a little forgotten. In crowds you tend to not get to noticed, and dress in discrete colors. You don't like being in the spotlight and wish people would just leave you alone. But once you do get close to someone you have a hard time letting go and get real down if you loose her.
Main weapon: Sniper
Quote: "The walls we build around us to keep out the sadness also keep out the joy" -Jim Rohn
Facial expression: Narrowed eyes
Elochai Sammael · Fri Apr 21, 2006 @ 05:12am · 1 Comments |
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