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 Posted: Thu Jul 01, 2010 1:14 pm
 As Baldric left the ground and began flying towards Viktor, he finally bared his fangs. A bite hurt more than a tackle, after all. And it seemed this enemy was worthy enough to defend himself! The lion didn't expect to be biting down on a wooden shaft, after all. With a large, loud snap, the beast's maws closed around the wood, turning the spear effectively into a pointed stick and a normal one. The 'drool' that the beorc saw was little more than Baldric spitting out the bits of wood.
As the lion's paw impacted against the armored shoulder, it took a bit of extra force that the rest of the body expended on that spear to hit that shoulder especially hard. Baldric wasn't very good with beorc metals, but he could honestly think that he might have dented that shoulder pad! But, he hardly knew if he did or not, since Viktor decided to aim a punch for the lion's side.
It hardly did anything close to lasting damage, but it was enough for Baldric to take a step back. The weight of a lion's paws walking on you couldn't have been too comfortable, but the beorc was able to squirm away, somehow. Baldric didn't put too much thought into it, since Viktor was already swinging part of that spear at him. It didn't hit since, well, it was hardly as long as it was before and Viktor had put distance between them. But, the laguz decided to give the enemy a second to recover. After all, now he was weaponless, and there wasn't any fun in that!
So, as the man scrambled to his feet, Baldric took another moment to catch his breath. And... the man was running away. Typical. Why was it that the more armor someone wore, the more likely they were to run away? At least the Adlians had the guts to stay and fight! Now, he was positively furious. He'd not found a single sane beorc that could even try to keep up with him in a fight, and most laguz were so far beneath him it was laughable! And just like any other time, his opponent runs away. And like half of the Adlians, he was running to a horse.
Rage carried Baldric's strides towards Viktor's back as he got closer and closer to that ******** horse. His rushed steps were silent amongst the noise of battle, and surely they would go unnoticed by the prey as it ran, armor clanking, feet stomping and heart pounding. As he got within a good ten feet or so, Baldric shot into a leap. He soared slightly above the ground, aimed directly towards Viktor's back, even with all of the armor it had. But, to anyone actually looking at Baldric, they'd see him enveloped in a bright red light. And leaving that red light at about the same speed as Baldric was leaping through the air would be what looked like a robed beorc, wild red mane of hair flowing behind his head with a bloodthirsty grin and absolutely pissed eyes. As Baldric slammed into Viktor's back (via approved minor bunnying), the two fell to the ground in a massive heap.
"You know what I really hate, puny beorc?" Baldric was grinning as he filled his voice with enough venomous malice to kill an elephant. The man stood up slightly, going to a crouch while he turned Viktor's body over, so he could actually look Baldric in the eyes. As soon as Viktor was laying on his back, Baldric flopped down, putting the brunt of his weight into an impact from Baldric's behind to Viktor's stomach. He had to sit on something, after all. Meanwhile, the laguz's legs were positioning Baldric in a kneel, with each leg pinning an arm to the body's sides. And everything above the waist was looming over the lancer's body.
"I really hate it, and I mean, I absolutely despise situations where..." Baldric took a brief pause to bring the sides of his shoes slamming into each of the man's arms. Last thing he needed was some sort of piece of wood of something jabbing into his back. "People!" he said, nearly snarling, as he slammed a balled up hand into the man's chest plate. "Run!" This time, he took his other hand, his left, and gave Viktor a nice punch to the right side of his face with all that lion strength. "Away!" This third attack was a punch from the right fist to the left cheek. With a good bit of his rage pacified, though there was still a lot more left over, Baldric simply sat there for a moment, giving Viktor time to cry for his mommy, beg for mercy, or whatever his cowardly beorc a** would do...
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Posted: Thu Jul 01, 2010 1:38 pm
******** THAT HURT. Well, mr. I don't like people running....Viktor WOULDN'T have ran if his damn spear hadn't been broken! Only reason he ran was to get another or a bow! Or...SOMETHING. Yea, no, that didn't work out too well. Viktor couldn't even say anything. Because well half the time he was getting his face beaten in and holy s**t if he hadn't fallen off that cliff and broken half of his bones, that probably would be more painful then he could have possibly imagined. He was bleeding never the less and oh damn.
Viktor turned his head to the side and spat out some blood before talking to the now human lion. He'd spaz, but now really wasn't the time for that was it? "Well..If you think about it for even a moment. You destroyed my spear, left me weaponless, I have more weapons on my horse and you have what. Claws? You think us kind can put up a fight like that!?" And what was this talk of beorcs? What was going on??
Ow, ok, that last punch REALLY hurt. OOOOOH WHY WAS HE ON HIS STOMACH NOW. A fairly loud 'Oof!' manged to escape his lips once he was sat on in the most uncomfortable way ever. "Yea......w-well..! ....DOOOOOAAAA I..got...nothing" Odamn it was hard to speak with something OH SO HEAVY SITTING ON HIS STOMACH. He wasn't dead at the very least but..GUUUUUH why was everything on Celtic? You'd think a paladin like himself would be smart enough to take something with him just in case a situation like this ever occurred. Viktor layed there (not that he had any choice at the moment) because hey...he can't do anything, he was at the head area, and quite surprisingly, he was still fine, no concussion...huh..you'd think something would affect him but not really. He paused, before speaking up
"..So..you have me....on the ground....bleeding....whaddya gonna do now..? Kill me? Eat me? Attack more of these innocent people? What the hell do you even plan on doing.." perhaps it was none of his business. Viktor figured he was going to die here anyways..Oh so soon..so sad...that's life.......but DAMMIT HE WOULD AT LEAST LOVED TO AT LEAST SEE HIS LITTLE SISTER ONE LAST TIME.
(( BLAH IS BLAH, BALDY'S A MEANIE HEAD XD!!! ))
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Posted: Thu Jul 01, 2010 2:27 pm
Even after getting punched to the face and all around beaten up by a giant Lion laguz, this little beorc still had the guts to talk! He had the strength to not only talk back about Baldric's fighting strategy, but to taunt him, asking him what the hell he was gonna do next! Instead of doing... much of anything too violent, Baldric began to laugh. It went on for a few seconds before it faded away, and Baldric only glared at Viktor's battered face.
"You're the one who ran away, stupid beorc. And these aren't claws," he sneered, wrapping his right hand around the Paladin's neck, and as he began to squeeze, "They're fingers." Baldric began to stand, still holding Viktor's neck to the ground. He removed his hand, returning to a standing posture as he towered over Viktor. With a groan, he quickly stomped on the Paladin's chest plate before storming off towards Celtic, Viktor's horse. As he got to it, he gave it a firm punch in the neck. Did he kill it? He didn't honestly care. All that could be determined was that he was mumbling something about 'stupid ******** cowardly horsemen' until the horse's pained neighing made it impossible to hear him. He took a few steps away from the horse before returning to his Lion form.
Baldric didn't even look at Viktor as he glanced around, trying to pinpoint the scent of something that could be worthwhile. He couldn't really smell that other Lion anymore, so it must have wandered farther away or something. Or maybe it left. He didn't really care anymore. Instead, he just let out a loud roar, sprinting off in some almost random direction. Moments later, he was leaping towards a few unawares nomads, slamming two into the ground with his bulk while he clawed a third through the stomach, doing the best a lion could do at grin while blood and intestines began to spill out. As far as Baldric was concerned, the entirety of Adliana was a bunch of weak cowards, and they deserved every bit of the massacre they were getting. But now, there was a Lion ripping and tearing through anything and everything that got in his way, rather than just find the ones that looked capable. If they could get out of his way, they'd only be prolonging the primal fear likely consuming them before their deaths...
(( Unless someone attacks him, he's just going to be in an angry berserky mode, mowing down the poor Adlians. ))
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Posted: Thu Jul 01, 2010 11:19 pm
Siegell spun quickly at Shade's rapid approach and dodged aside, swinging his blade out, then swept it upward, flipping it around to bring it down just a hair short of the lupine wraith's neck. "Oh, is it this one again?" he murmured, grinning his sardonic grin. He dropped slightly as he brought his arm up from his side, tugging the loosely-hung Tomahawk off his belt, and threw it past Shade's head, grinning.
"... Fetch."
The enchanted weapon whipped back around, carving through the ethereal wolf's neck on its way back to its master's hand. The beast vanished in a puff of maleficent vapor, but its purpose was served-- the second Siegell's fingers closed around the handle of his axe, a surge of dark energy struck him, swarming around his armor, and drew away a portion of his not inconsiderable quintessence.
Eyes wild, he turned, enraged, to watch the nigh-invisible ripple of violet light soaring through the air toward his apparent assailant.
"Son of a b***h," he growled, and the Dragon Lord took off at a run, cutting down anyone, nomad and bandit alike, who stood in his path.
The pain slowed him at first, but each pained step only fueled the madman's rage, and with a deranged, shouting laugh, he lunged forward, swinging his blade down at Cairne's chest, then thrust it just as suddenly toward the summoner's navel.
Between the damage it had apparently taken sometime in the past-- the area around his eye was cracked and much of the porcelain was missing, resulting in a jagged hole rather than a smooth rectangle-- and the fresh damage from Nosferatu, along with Siegell's mad charge, the straps that held his mask in place snapped during his first swing, and his mask fell into the grass, revealing his scarred and mutilated face.
Of course, not to ********!" he shouted, stepping back suddenly, raising his left hand to cover his face. "Damnit. Wasn't supposed to be this many!" Responding automatically to his rider's situation, Shastah was on his way down. Siegell quickly backed onto his mount, leaving the mask on the ground.
"Baldric, get Bliss and go!" He could see the Hawk King coming in, and before the dangerous laguz could get too close, as Shastah took off, Siegell drew a small dagger and pulled the heron girl close, pressing the blade to her cheek. "Stay away now, bird. Elise here has an appointment with a cookie and she simply cannot afford to miss it."
He added, more quietly, "What have I told you about talking to strangers?"
Though the village still burned, and many had died, the arrival of reinforcements had forced Siegell and his best men to retreat long before they could come close to achieving their previous levels of genocide-- certainly a victory, and likely the end of their reign of terror.
Now there were only bandits to clean up.
[Because we need to end this and focus on the new event. :V]
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Posted: Fri Jul 02, 2010 10:29 am
 Shade vanished, as Cairne might've guessed. But that was okay--the Summoner who relied on his summon to win his battles for him was a pretty pathetic summoner indeed. They were far too weak to do much more than harass the enemy, anyway. What was important was the quintessence sailing back towards him. He felt it flowing through him--it wouldn't do anything to heal him (he didn't have anything TO heal), but it certainly made him feel energetic!
...But the laugh was getting louder. Apparently, he hadn't killed the laughing man. And given the fact that an accurate Nosferatu returns to the caster with its bounty afterward, no doubt it was easy to locate the caster.
"Uh oh."
He was blind, with no Shade.
Against the wrath of the glaive, there was only one defense he had: moving backward and hoping he missed a lot.
He leapt backward, feeling the glaive whip by just inches from his face. Hooray, he'd dodged the first attack! But he no longer had any idea when he'd hit the ground, and so lost his balance when he actually DID, falling backward onto the grass.
He shouted out in agony as the glaive a second later found his abdomen, piercing through cloth and flesh. So, this was it--he couldn't run any further, couldn't cast anything, and everyone else was likely busy... But-but I don't want to die! I didn't come all this way to get skewered! So cold... so... huh?
He wasn't moving the glaive out. Cairne was barely breathing, yes, but he wasn't dead, and the battle wasn't over. Surely he'd at least like his weapon back? But through the pain and the desire to vomit, he could hear a loud curse from the same man who'd just stabbed him.
And THEN he screamed again as Siegell ripped the glaive out. As he rolled over to vomit all over the ground, he could feel the beat of wyvern wings as they moved away.
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Posted: Sat Jul 03, 2010 5:12 pm
 His shoulders parted the initial shock of bandits-- not soldiers. That sat better with Skrimir. They had an end, there would be less nonsense about armies later. Just the fight, and that was good.
A bolt of scorching magic splattered and sizzled the ground by his paws, turning the sand in the soil to glass. That was no bandit.
Another singed the edge of his left ear, a near miss. That allowed him to see where it was coming from.
There!
In the trees, cast in the fireglare-- the caster! Skrimir set his eyes on the dark figure in the distance. His hind legs beat the packed dirt, tore up the smoldering grass. From the point of view of his target, he appeared to get very big, and very near. Very quickly.
The caster, known as Scar, raised a hand just as Skirmir sprang. The lion's savage roar was whited out-- a flare of defensive white magic.
Skrimir landed, dazed. But not for long-- the bright firelight wasn't much different from a flare to adapt to. Within seconds, all that was left was a snapped neck and a mauled tome hand to show for it.
Skrimir didn't dwell in the end of the young woman in black. Looking up to the sky, he could see the darkened shape of a wyvern slipping away into the sky.
There'd be more. No time to slow down now.
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Posted: Wed Jul 07, 2010 5:46 pm
After a visit to the healers, Edward was feeling much better. He had restocked on his weapons and was ready to fight again. Edward ran to a scene of bandits attacking everyone else.
A group of them noticed Edward and charged at him with their axes raised. Edward ducked beneath most of the chops and killed them with several slices towards their necks and stabs to their chests. He quickly turned around as he heard a scream and saw Siegell pulling a glaive out of Cairne's stomach. He ran towards him as Siegell mounted his wyvern and flew away.
Edward approached Cairne and turned him over. "Don't speak, save you're energy." Edward pulled out his vulnery and applied basic first aid to prevent infection. He tied a bandage around Cairne's stomach and picked him up. "C'mon... HEY! I NEED A HEALER OVER HERE!" Edward ran back to camp and looked for help.
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