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 Posted: Mon Aug 16, 2010 5:50 am
A fierce crackle of arcane energy seemed to flow over the battlefied; Malag did not recognize it at first, but the raw ferocity of it sent chills down his spine. His well-trained ears also recognized the distinctive sound of a battle ending definitively outside, though how he did not know. More Hun'Afin troops began to pour into the entrance hall, as well as the rag-tag elements of the Shadow Guard. Even better, it seemed that fate was indeed on Hun'Afin's side as the throne room's door was blasted off it's hinges with a mighty boom. Malag cackled, bemused thoughts running through his head.
That must've been Veldrin; how did I figure he would remember that trick just in time?
With a triumphant roar, Malag leapt onto the back of the nearest Elite Guard, who about to skewer a grunt. The foe's blade was through the grunt's arm, and was pressing closer to his throat with each moment, but the Elite was leaning forward with the strain; grunts may not be skilled fighters, but they certainly were tough. As Malag lofted towards him, his tactical thought engaged, instantly spotting the weak point: since the guard had bent forward, his helmet had lifted off the nape of his neck. Malag landed like on him like a deep spider, and drove his dagger into the Elite's spine. He felt his fine blade bite through bone and sinew, then finally stop against the front of the Elite's helmet. The man crumpled like a stomped mushroom as Malag sprang off him, ready for his next kill; nineteen more to go.
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Posted: Tue Aug 17, 2010 1:17 pm
In the time he had become lost within the house he had prayed to the closet thing he had to faith for guidance, and was exhilarated to hear the sounds of battle on the other side of the wall the wall before him. He took a quick breath and sprinted forth, throwing his considerable weight into the ornate wall.
For Torm! Tagerion and Stormhold whispered physically to each other as they slammed through the solid wall and into the elite ridden space between Malag and Sy.
One of the "heavily" armored elites was simply crushed in the downpour of masonry and magical armor, while its nearest comrades quickly turned their skills towards the human. One of them cleanly skewering an enchanted spearhead through his armor and into his massive abdomen, blood began oozing through the rupture even as he smashed the Drow's skull with Stormhold's hilt.
The pain felt righteous to Tagerion. Finally! A foe had drawn blood, what a battle this my turn to be! The throbbing in his mind intensified tenfold, the blood and honorlust in his heart coming forth. There were dark beings to slay this day, and stormhold once again thrummed with ecstasy.
"Let us even the odds, My Mistress and My Master!" he roared to Malag and Sy before charging into the mass of elite guards besieging his fellow brutes. The orc and dwarf warriors bellowed war cries and renewed vigor as the champion of the slaves reentered the battle.
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Posted: Wed Aug 18, 2010 5:40 am
Malag's grin ignited at the arrival of Tagerion; the human had no sense of stealth, but he was a master of being where you least expected him. Dynamic entries weren't wasted on Malag, and he cackled as the warrior began cleaving and smiting in a whirlwind of blood and steel. He glanced about the battlefield, looking for a turned back, and unfortunately, was caught by one of Stormhold's bright flashes. He grumbled as he rubbed his eye, but once his vision cleared it settled on something much more meaningful; a shred of fabric stuck to a wall. This alone wouldn't mean much, but this particular scrap seemed to be caught in the wall: a secret door! He cackled smugly as he slipped through the battle towards wall, and examined it quickly. Definitely a door, but how was it opened? Another elite's approach forced him to retreat temporarily, but his curiosity was unquenchable; as soon as the coast was clear, he slipped back for another look. It was a tricky design for certain: Malag would never have spotted it if not for the fabric stuck in it. He still couldn't figure out quite how to open it, but he got another idea. Searching out a dueling pair nearby, Malag arrived a second after the brute was dispatched; the elite's attention settled on the rogue, and he approached slowly, in a firm battle stance. Malag had no chance from the front, but he wasn't aiming to kill the Drow just yet; that would come next. For now, survival was what he needed. The elite's blade flashed, crashing against Malag's bracers and blasting the smaller Drow backwards, his arms aching from the heavy impact. The blows came in a steady rain of metal, crashing against gauntlets, his blades, even barely skidding off his leather armor. The tip of the blade whizzed past his blind eye, bringing back painfully clear memories of it's loss, but Malag continued his tactical retreat. This was the part that he didn't like at all, but he knew it was a necessity: Malag's back hit the door, and a mock look of panic slithered over his face. The elite lunged, thrusting his blade to pin Malag to the wall, and the blade bit into his body; he'd only been able to dodge enough to avoid a lethal impalement, but the blade had still pierced him. Malag's breath hissed through his teeth as the cold stone behind him slowly shifted, and his hissing breath turned into triumphant laughter: the door was operated by a bloodied blade. Malag leaned backward, and the door opened and shut like a bear trap, allowing just enough time for him to pull the blade free and fall backwards through the wall. He heard the elite's blade snap, and realized how the fabric had gotten caught; if someone was a little slow going through, they would come out much lighter on the other side. He panted for a moment, catching his breath, then sat up and checked around him for any traces of life; the whole area was dusty, except for a patch of floor that led off into the darkness. It had been swept clean, concealing both the enemy's number and any changes in direction. Malag sighed, and decided to attend to his wounds first and foremost; he didn't have much, but some bandages, a little alcohol, and a bit of healing herb helped relieve the pain. It was still a bloody gash, but at least now it was a much less lethal gash. That done, he rose to his feet, and set off down the passage; he was going to find who that fabric belonged to...
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Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 11:16 am
Short sword and dagger lashed out as the assassin, Veldrin Hun'afin, rushed into the throne room and buried themselves into the kidneys of the closest of Matron Aleanduis' three "elite" bodyguards. The guard went into shock as Veldrin's short sword severed her renal artery as his dagger punctured her kidney. Her system shut down as her lifeblood poured out of her body.
He pivoted away from the corpse-in-the-making and launched himself toward the nearest remaining bodyguard. The Hun'afin Weaponsmaster and Patron delivered a charging slash with his dagger that connected across the hulking guard's throat while his short sword slammed upward into the brute's guts.
The third guard used the opportunity presented by her comrade's skewering to strike the intruder's rear flank. She threw a mighty slash that surely would have severed the assassin's spine had his "danger sense" not alerted him to the attack of opportunity. Veldrin rolled away from the strike, and turned what would have been a crippling blow into a mere glancing wound to the hip.
The assassin cast a Swift Invisibility spell as he rushed toward the lone, doomed bodyguard. The sudden shock of his disappearance dropped the doomed bodyguard's guard long enough for Veldrin to drive his blades into her heart.
Veldrin nonchalantly wiped his bloodied blades on the uniform of the freshest of the three corpses in the room while he turned his attention to his quarry. He sheathed his sword and drew his hand crossbow in a smooth movement as he walked toward the throne.
He loaded a dart as he began to mock the matron of this doomed house. "Who's the trash now, b***h?" he asked with a sneer, delivering a verbal slap to the face. "This House is doomed by the will of Lolth herself, and Hun'afin is your chosen executioner. Your bodyguard lies fallen before you, your armies are scattered and broken, and my Qu'el'velguk and Qu'el'faeruk will soon capture your sole progeny and slaughter your precious half-dragon."
Vasune'avin's face wore a mask of pure hatred as the Patron of the Second House held a weapon trained upon her, a MATRON of a noble House. HOW DARE HE, A MERE MALE, SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT, she thought, fuming at the situation.
Her serpent whip lashed out at the impudent male once, twice, three times. The nimble assassin sidestepped the initial swipe, and a series of thrusts from his dagger kept the snapping snake heads at bay the second time. The third swing struck home, and four serpents began pumping their venom into Veldrin's veins, but not before Veldrin's own poison-tipped crossbow dart found its way into the matron's abdomen.
She could feel the sleep inducing toxin seeping into her blood stream from the wound in her lower abdomen, just above her womb. Her vision grew blurry and her hearing weak as her arms and legs began to feel limp and heavy. The last thing she clearly saw before she slipped out of consciousness for the second to last time was the malicious grin on her captor's face begin to expand, even as he too was poisoned.
The reason why Veldrin's sadistic grin began to grow was that he knew that the venom that had been pumped into his veins was practically useless. Yes, the bites were painful, as was the cut on his hip, but he had been subjected to the Lash of Venom so many times during his youth that he had built up a sizable resistance to its effects. What would normally have led to total paralysis merely tingled with a bit of slight discomfort accompanied by a burning sensation.
Veldrin soon withdrew a scroll case from his belt pouch, taken from the House Vault just prior to his departure, and activated the inscribed spell, a Dimension Door leading back to the safety of his own House, to allow him to exit the battlefield safely with his unconscious quarry. He hoisted up Vasune'avin's limp form from her throne, and passed through the Door to the Hun'afin private chapel, where Vasune'avin would be returned to consciousness to experience her final moments as a sacrifice to The Spider Queen.
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Posted: Sun Aug 29, 2010 8:51 pm
Power...raw power ran through the veins, nerves, ki channels, magic circuits and psionic network of the newest Chosen disciple of the god of war, Selvetarm.
Solaufein's eyes took on a supernatural glow, blazing a burning crimson as his whites of his eyes turned the same shade of port wine red as his irises. The soulknife's mind blades flared to life with a greater intensity than ever, this time taking the form of a pair of broad, single-edged shortswords with a curved cutting edge that glow with a brilliant red hue at the edges, while the interior has a cold, steely bluish-gray aura.
The muscular, scarred, bald-headed drow psionic warrior's muscles bulged as his nerves and reflexes grew sharper. He let out a primal roar; a mixture of pain, pleasure and sheer praise and adulation for his patron deity who had just bestowed his divine favor upon him. "Come forth, men and women of Hun'afin! Come forth, my legion! It is our sacred duty to The Spider Queen, ordered by the Vel'sharess Ulvira Rylinndar, that we utterly destroy Qu'ellar Aleanduis this very night!" He pivoted away from his troops and prepared to charge the interior of the keep as he continued his speech, "In the name of Selvetarm, by the will of Lolth, let us slaughter the remaining troops of Aleanduis and make the halls of this House run crimson with rivers of blood!!!"
Following the Chosen of Selvetarm's fierce rallying cry, the Hun'afin House Guard's legion of troops stormed the interior of the palace of the soon to be dead Third House. With shields locked and spears thrusting forward and impaling or swords slashing and slicing anything unfortunate enough to get in their way, the Guardsmen marched forward in phalanx formation, and combed the halls hunting down the remaining defenders.
Once Solaufein's forces re-united with Sy and the brutes, they quickly joined in the fray. The hulking warrior barked out his House's command to duck, which he directed at Sy as both of his ectoplasmic blades went flying, along with volley after volley of the soldier's thrown spears, hurled at the elite Aleanduian guards she was engaged with. The, now spear-less, Hun'afin guardsmen drew their swords and locked their shields together as they regrouped and reformed into four-man wide phalanxes and rushed the staircase, eager to enter the bloodbath. Their ecstatic war cries nearly drowned out the annoying ringing noises set off by the Alarm spell that Veldrin set off.
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Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 3:19 am
All of the clanging of swords and agonized yelps was enough to divert Sy's attention and realize that reinforcements had appeared. It wasn't until Sy locked blades with her opponent that she heard Soulafein's order to duck. Her head suddenly swerved to the side only to see flying, impaling spears heading in her direction!
"Oh shi-!" instantly the young drowess threw all of her weight to dodge to the side, spinning her opponent with her and using him as a meat shield.
Sy then used all of her weight to hold the guard up while still locking him with her blades. She gritted her teeth with the strain to hold and balance him. Blood speckled her face as the guard hollered in pain as one after another spear rammed into his back. One spear shot through him and nearly jabbed Sy in the arm. But she merely repositioned herself and stood her ground.
Once the male stopped jerking convulsively from being stabbed and the amount of blood loss, Sy then did a tumble roll out of the line of fire to the side wall and hugged it. Slicing her swords on the nearest distracted enemies where their attention was now faced on the bottom of the stairs. When Sy saw how the fight seemed to leave the top of the stairs down to meet their deaths at the bottom, she then hollered to the remaining of her troops to keep going forward!
The brutes busted through the grand entrance doors on the top of the stairs and poured into the corridors like a plague. Sweeping through the halls, dragging out commoners and the like in every room, and slaughtering them with no mercy.
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Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 6:02 am
A footstep rang out through the hall Malag lurked in, and that was enough; he sprang into action, galvanized. He followed the lingering echo, sliding through the benighted corridors like a shadow, trailing the fleeting source of that sound. Another rang out, and Malag's teeth grated together in excitement: his prey was growing fearful, and thus careless. Malag traced the point of his dagger along the stonework as he ran, creating a horrible grating noise that seemed to fill the corridor. The fleeting footsteps broke into a run, and Malag's killer instinct took over as he blitzed down the corridor after his victim. Something didn't feel right though... There was danger in the air, and Malag knew it, but he couldn't place it. However, it placed itself firmly when he rounded the next corner, recieving a large, dragonborn boot in the chest. He sailed back through a pillar, and thumped against the wall heavily, keeping his feet. He regretted it a moment later as he yelped and ducked the massive blade that followed, shattering the stone wall above him. As he rolled out of the way, a monstrous lunge of the creature's weapon followed him, biting into the wall again with a resounding thud. Now he was nervous; as the darkness activated his infravision, he recognized the Aleanduan Weaponsmaster. This was a battle Malag would not, and could not win. The cogs in his mind turned quickly as the beast lumbered after him, and suddenly he had an idea. Malag danced out of range of another great swing, then sprang up onto the ruins of the first pillar he'd been knocked through, waiting for the inevitable follow-up attack; it came, and Malag leaped over the Dragonborn and his blade. There was no way he'd be able to fit through upright, so he stretched forward until he was flat in the air; the beast was very tall, and the ceiling wasn't that high, so it was a tight fit...but Malag succeeded. The Drow soared through the air, and landed in a swift roll, popping to his feet and dashing down the hall and around the corner; he would have liked to slay the misshappen creature, but he knew that it's life belonged to another Hun'Afin member. He heard the sound of footsteps once again though, and this time there was labored breathing to accompany it. The hunt was back on...
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Posted: Mon Aug 30, 2010 9:51 am
The half-fiend eldritch theurge hovered, awestruck, over the scene of the aftermath of direct divine intervention. He had just watched as the god of war, Selvetarm, had sent his avatar to the Material Plane to bestow his blessings upon his Chosen servant and utterly destroy the enemies of his faithful subject.
As Solaufein led the charge of Qu'ellar Hun'afin's ground forces, Valagh dove from his vantage point in the stalagmites high above the battlefield and swooped into the interior keep to provide aerial support. The cambion soon arrived at the current battlefield, the central stairway. Twin volleys of Magic Missiles thrashed the Aleanduian forces descending the stairs to their doom against phalanx after phalanx of Hun'afin's elite soldiers, allowing Sy and her brutes to make their way into the upper levels of the keep.
Seeing that the warriors had the battle well in hand, Valagh moved on to his secondary objective: the destruction of the nobles of the house; specifically, the half-dragon Alaecalaunmiir. Violet eldritch flames enveloped the half-fiend's hands as he made his way down a side passage, following a trio of trails that seem to suddenly come to a stop in the middle of the passage. Upon closer inspection, the warlock/mage noticed a scrap of cloth wedged deeply into a crack between two stones. He immediately burst into spell, casting a relatively minor spell that would force the hidden doorway to open.
He pulled his large, leathery wings close to his body as he jumped through the sliding stone panel that was swiftly sliding shut behind him. His inborn ability to see within total darkness, including magically created darkness kicked in as the glaring magically created illumination in the main passages of the manor were utterly shut out. Valagh quickly picked up the trails again and resumed his hunt, which soon came to a screeching halt as the pommel of a massive greatsword was slammed directly between his eyes.
It would appear that the magus' quarry had just found him, and was in quite the foul mood. Valagh tucked his wings in as he rolled through his impact with the hard, stone floor, and swiftly blasted the draconic brute with a stream of raw, baleful energy laced with a potent, conjured acid.
The stench of melting flesh and scales, combined with the acrid, pungent aroma of the acid filled the air, along with the pained screams of the enormous half-breed spawn of a blue dragon. Alaecalaunmiir filled what remained of his lungs and breathed out a massive bolt of lightning that struck the demonspawn square in the chest. Valagh's natural resistance to electricity lessened the effect of the half-dragon's breath weapon, but the blast still left the half-demon's robe singed and knocked the air out of his lungs. The magus retaliated by conjuring up an orb of pure darkness around the Aleanduian weaponsmaster, and began to weave together energies both eldritch and arcane, infusing one of the eldritch essences into an enhanced variant of a fireball spell, one that would char the flesh from the dragon's bones upon detonation.
Immediately after the brilliantly glowing, pea-sized bead of magical energy left his fingertip, Valagh retreated down the corridor to avoid being blasted by his own spell. The bead plunged itself into the center of the conjured orb of darkness and exploded in a massive fireball, filling the tunnel with smoke and the stench of sulfur and burnt flesh as the half-dragon's smoldering corpse continued to burn.
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Posted: Tue Sep 07, 2010 9:02 am
Malag laughed darkly as the smell of sulfur filled the corridor; Valagh must've arrived and given the Weaponmaster a piece of his mind. Or perhaps he'd given the wall a piece of the Weaponmaster's mind... Malag smirked at the thought. However, he didn't have time to ponder the intricacies of the Half-Dragon demise; he could smell a woman ahead of him. As his surging steps carried him further and further down the hall, the tap of footsteps grew closer and closer. However, the hall was beginning to widen again, and Malag knew that the chase was nearing a close; wherever the first daughter was heading, they were almost there. The corridor ended abruptly and the walls vanished as they spread out into a vista: they were somehow on top of the House. The clangor of battle had mostly faded, but the smell of death still wafted up from the courtyard below; the corpses of the Shadow Guard were down there, the first to fall in battle. Anger stirred in his chest, and he realized that he was almost close enough to do what he needed to now; the girl's back was to him, and she didn't seem to notice him. They were a breath apart, and Malag knew that it was time to strike. His powerful legs churned, and he sprang at the first daughter, tackling her viciously. As the two soared into space, Malag's inquisitive mind dissected their chances of surviving the fall naturally; not terribly good. However, there was always a back-up plan, and Malag knew better than any that he would be needing one. As the First Daughter screamed with indignation, and the air whistled past their ears, the Drow realized exactly what a pain royalty were. With a broad grin, he twisted in the air to fan both himself and her out to maximum width, slowing their fall slightly. Her raging red eyes met with his laughing one, and her words failed to reach his ears over the howling air that streaked past them. Malag only hoped that his acrobatic skill wouldn't fail him now. Twisting again, he pulled himself under the female Drow, much to her indignation, and let all the air out of his lungs as he braced for impact. They landed on a pile of bodies with a vicious impact, and Malag's well-trained instincts activated: the momentum of the drop was transferred into a masterful roll, an old acrobat's trick. However, there was still a lot of speed in the roll, so Malag did what anyone with excess weight attached would do: he ditched it. Releasing the First Daughter's shirt at the apex of the roll, she was sent yowling across the courtyard and into a wall; she slammed into it with a resounding thud, and her head knocked against the masonry, rendering her unconcious. Malag used the rest of his momentum in a forward leap, at last skidding to a halt near the girl's unconcious form. Malag panted, laughing a bit madly, as he raised a fist triumphantly. He spat on the girl with a triumphant grin, then lifted her lightly onto his shoulders; she wouldn't wake for a while, given the impact. Now, Malag just had to wait for orders to return to the compound; all in all, it had been a most satisfying day.
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Posted: Sun Sep 19, 2010 12:31 am
Sy and her army of brutes had branched off into different rooms and corridors to cover the rest of the House to clean up the remaining filth that had once been a House of ridiculous tyranny. As the drowess walked into a large arched study, she kicked and stepped over the dead drow that laid in pools of blood. She looked up and around the room. The carnage that had been brought seemed to have knocked down some of the shelves of books which had crushed some desks and devices that had been on the tables.
With unexpected strength the short, young drowess seemed to have, she positioned her feet, twisted her body, she used her left shoulder and her right hand to throw her weight onto the leaning shelf and pushed it as it flew back and landed on its back. The two brutes that were with her didn't even get the chance to help her move the piece of furniture but just stood back and seemed pretty well impressed. Sy then turned around and with force, pulled the drawer all the way out of the desk and began to look through the papers. Not really interested in the writing, she flipped the drawer over and found a hidden compartment. Inside were a pouch of gold pieces.
She then held the pouch out to the brutes and shook it so the coins clinked together, "Have your men search the place! Every possible place you can think of! Under drawers! Behind picture frames! In the dead drow's pockets! Gather the riches! Search the Melee Quarters for weapons and any shipment that might be useful! If you steal for your own be sure to bring twice as much back to the House. Go NOW!"
The brutes immediately rushed out of the room to alert the others and begin the raiding for goods. Sy stayed in the room and began to look at a really pretty statue of the Goddess Lolth, "Hm, that would look good in my room..."
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Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2010 6:30 am
For several moments, Valagh basked in the view of the carnage that he had just wrought as he stood and watched the charred pile of bones that just moments earlier was the weaponsmaster of Qu'ellar Aleanduis. The half-fiend's tribute to his own power was cut short when he received the sending from the Patron of his house. Mission accomplished. Aleanduis has lost its head. Spread the word: Complete your objectives and return home! Valagh, level the place before you leave. "I'll see what I can do regarding the demolition, but I promise nothing," he stated in reply before he set about casting a Mass Sending spell to send the same message to Malag, Sy and Solaufein simultaneously. As he completed the incantation and performed the last of the somantic gestures, the warlock/magus intoned the message received from Veldrin verbatim with the exception of the last line which contained his own follow-up orders. In its place were the words, "You have one hour to leave this place before it comes crashing down on your heads."
As Valagh finished relaying the orders from home, he set about searching through his spells to find the most effective spell at his disposal to destroy an entire castle, magically created and transported from the World Above.
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Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2010 6:35 pm
Sy received the message as she and her brutes had found the House Vault. After she listened to the message carefully she then turned around, "Gather what you can from the Vault, pack up, and leave! We have an hour to get out of this place before the House collapses. But we still need to travel the corridors so that gives you a half hour! Now move it!"
The brutes then doubled their time with packing. Packing jewels, riches, coins, heirlooms, swords, weapons, and chaining slaves up to one line to be dragged behind as they began to make the journey out the doors and exited back into the Courtyard to be regrouped and accounted for.
Once the last of the brutes caught up, Sy then arranged the men in a travel formation, "We are to be discreet while we travel back to the House! If anyone asks... we are merely merchants doing a shipment! Hide your insignias! If you let slip our intentions you will be the death of us all! Now move out!"
Sy then lead the brutes at a steady, easy trot as they took the back corridors back to Hun'afin.
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Posted: Fri Oct 01, 2010 9:10 am
Malag's mind was suddenly filled with a voice, and he recognized Valag's words as the echoed through him. He smiled, and made his way through the carnage to the spot where the remaining Shadow Guard had gathered. He raised a fist victoriously, and the Drow returned his gesture. He beckoned for them to follow, and like deathly shadows, they exited stronghold as quickly as they had entered. Maneuvering through the warrens and backstreets of Ulorbbath, they would be back to the Qu'ellar in no time. Malag smiled; he was quite pleased to have such a resounding success for his first official mission...
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Posted: Fri Oct 01, 2010 11:57 am
Solaufein howled with delight as Valagh's Sending reached his ears. "The Spider That Waits was with us this day!", the Chosen of Selvetarm roared. "Victory is nearly ours! Terminate any creature not wearing our crest; LEAVE NOTHING ALIVE!!! You have one hour to kill every remaining being in this compound that is not one of us and form up at the gates to march home! Am I understood?!"
"SIR, YES SIR!!!", the Hun'afin guardsmen shouted in unison.
As the heavily scarred soulknife was barking out his orders, the rogue-warriors that made up the Hun'afin House Guard were already on the prowl, hunting for surviving members of the dying House and cowardly Aleanduian soldiers, and slaughtering them on sight.
Solaufein (now armed with the divine favor of the Drow god of war), along with the two companies of infantry that were each split into 16 four-man death squads, had completed their massacre just inside of 45 minutes and assembled at the gates of what used to be a noble House, but was now naught but a mass grave.
The interim Captain of the Guard gave the House Mage the all-clear signal to begin the demolition of the Qu'ellar Aleanduis keep before marching the troops back to base via Ullorbath's back alleys.
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