Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Salrynn
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Salrynn Pretty Reckless

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Location: the outside world
Interacting with:Satilla


Sona sighed as she yawned and awoken from her sleep. She actually hasn’t been asleep for that long in a very long time. Only sleeping for a small amount of time as she usually doesn’t need that sleep, but she slept for a very long time. She doesn’t really know why she slept for such a long time in the first place. Could it have been the tiredness of the travel?? She doesn’t know. All she knows is that the sleep felt really good, indicating that she needed it as they would all be travelling again today. Sighing softly she yawned and she sat up, scratching her head and then standing up to see who else was awake. Spotting a certain silver-haired witch she walked up to her and grinned “Good morning!” she smiled softly and bit her lower lip.

“My name is Sona, were you the silver haired girl in the bushes before I ran off?? I thought you were a beautiful dancer! Well, that’s how I seen it to be anyway. Hehehe”

Sona greeted the girl rather happily, quite the different behaviour compared to the night before, where Sona was a bit spaced out before heading to sleep. “I must say, your cat is very cute. Where did you get him??” she asked with such curiosity as she looks at her pet bird perching on her shoulder as always. “I just haven’t seen one in such a long time! hehehe!"
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Lady Amalthea
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Kyra Altham

Location: Gorlf Northern Territory
Interacting With: Something in the air

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Kyra sat up in her perch for nearly an hour before anything caught her interest. Things were quiet, too quiet, but nothing had made itself known as of yet. Each moment that ticked by with that silence the more on edge she became. The Wilderness was not meant to be this quiet; there should have been animals running about in the darkness, but there were none. As the sun broke there should have been birds in trees chirping, even at this part of the season. Still nothing. Just the sound of the storm approaching in for the longest time. Maybe the thunder was drowning out things she should be hearing, or maybe there was nothing out there and she was just being overly cautious.

Either way, she stayed on guard, that was her job right then. At least for another hour until she would head out before the rest of the group and go scouting once again. The night had been odd, some came in and some left; she couldn't blame those that left, sometimes this just wasn't the life one had expected and you needed to walk away.

Ash stood watch beneath Kyra and suddenly the Dire Wolfs head turned and he growled slightly as he lowered himself. A shift in the winds quickly caught Kyra's attention and her eyes narrowed. She knew what had gotten her pet upset, the same thing invading her senses. The smell of Orc. Slipping out of the tree she patted Ashes head before quickly making her way back towards the camp. "Come on Ash," she whispered.

Once they made it back to the camp she quickly started to wake those that had not already roused. "We got company and it ain't the friendly sort this time," she warned. The orcs were not there yet and wouldn't be for a little bit, the smell of them carrying far on the winds but it was better to get ready now than to wait.

*No, the orcs will not appear this round, nor will you be able to determine their numbers. Those that can and/or are trained in such things are tracking or trailing will pick up on the scent. (I will check CS's if you claim to be able to do so.) - Next Update post they will make an appearance and it will hold details on how we will proceed.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Dragoknighte
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Cyneburg

Location: The campsite
Interacting with: People I Guess


Cyneburg's turn on watch was spent as an owl sitting atop a low hanging tree branch. She wasn't sure if the cook had noticed, for he seemed deep in his meditative state, but she knew that when it came to awareness, one was often more aware than they let on. As a bird, she sat and watched. And waited. And listened. There was nothing. The bird that was Cyneburg shifted in place. She was a bit uncomfortable for the bird form was not one she often took. Why would she? The thought of flying high above the trees but a cold grip around her heart. This was fine, however.

What wasn't fine was how nothing was happening. No matter which way she turned her head (180 degrees even), she not spot even a vole dashing through the undergrowth(the owl brain was a hungry thing to deal with). Nor did she hear anything other than the slow crackling of the fire and soft breathing of sleeping (or meditation). Nothing to this degree was unnatural, and she didn't like it, but her shift was up. It would be best to try to get some rest and refresh her abilities. If this quiet was a calm before the storm, a tired druid would not be much help. The owl fluttered down from its perch and became a woman. Cyneburg woke up Kyra before finding a spot by a tree stump to fall asleep herself.

--------------------------------------------

When she was woken up by Kyra again, it did not surprise her that there was unfriendly people coming to say hi, at least if Kyra was to be believed. She yawned and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

"Sorry if this surprises anyone here, but don't be alarmed. I'm not going to attack any of you." This usually didn't keep people from getting surprised, but it was better than no warning. The woman then transformed into a bear. Not the happy black bear of yesterday, but a much larger brown bear. The bear raised up its nose and sniffed the winds. Perhaps she would be able to get a good idea of when the party would arrive.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Sigil
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Sigil Literary Hatchetman

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Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Camp
Interacting With: Medieval X-Men, Cremwise, Cyneburg


Silence, except for the wind, caressed Keystone's awareness of Self. His extended meditations began to fix his mind into a state of hyperinformative insight, wherein great truths of himself and the land around him began to unfold, as the petals of a great water flower may; slowly and with great deliberation, true enlightenment hidden inside.

Keystone's need for violence, his overly protective nature for both himself and others, coupled with his unfathomable depths of anger, began to unravel and fall away as the pure, golden light of his soul - his inner being, his ideal, enlightened, personally aware, inner Self - began to rise from the darkness and muck of his psyche's defenses and personal baggage, to assert itself as the rightful, enlightened, and potent force commanding the powerfully conditioned physical form of Keystone, the resulting amalgam being the perfection of mind, body, and soul, raising him from the common mundane origins from which he came.

The Perfect Warrior. A force of nature. The ultimate incarnation of Keystone. A thing which, given time, may very well be deified.

And then it fell to crap.

A moment before his great transcendence, a call to arms sounded in the form of, "We got company and it ain't the friendly sort this time." The uncouth brawler's sense of earthly duty pulled him from his illuminating reverie as he sprung up, fully awake and ready to run at full tilt, if need be.

Keystone's hoisted his pack and hung it from the cart, tossing a suggestion at Cremwise. "You ought hitch up horsey on the quick, it's soddin' off time." He disengaged the slip knot holding up his tarp underneath the wagon, crudely balled up the apparatus, and sandwiched it next to the cargo. Ready to go in ten seconds. Not bad, considering the circumstances. Then again, minimal preparation in the evening makes for minimal effort necessary in the morning.

The large man noted with some interest that one of their recent, veiled acquisition shifted from from a woman into a large, ursine beast. While it wasn't the strangest thing he'd seen in his adventuring career, it was the first time he'd actually witnessed it this closely. Curiosity (and, if he were honest with himself, a bit of alarm) turned his head in her direction. Yeah, he'd heard of woodland folk who could skin-change. He'd just never been on a job with one, owing to his urban upbringing and his occupation. Not a lot of opportunity for professional crossover there.

This upcoming danger did mean one thing - his hope for oat bannocks and strong tea was dashed, at least for the present. More pressing things took priority, namely the safety of their charge and his wares, at least until they're offloaded in the next town. If they made it out unscathed as well, bonus.

Keystone was ready to fight, even if his lack of weapons or armor (outside of his masterful leather coat) indicated otherwise. Still, despite his wary nature, he couldn't help himself. Nodding to the Bear-Lady, but focused on the surrounding woodlands, he queried, "Oi, is it true, then? You lot shit in the woods?"

One step from enlightenment, indeed.

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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Lucius Cypher
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Malkus

Location: Near the camp, hidden in the bushes
Interacting With: Sir Slashy and his merry band of Stabbers. But no one else in particular.


Malkus crept closer and closer, quieter than a mice. Yet he never really got close to the camp; he kept moving through the bushes, trying to find the one bush or tree that was close enough for him to just dash out of, grab a bit to eat, and then split. This shouldn't be that hard; Malkus had done this plenty of times before, with even less cover. Hell, he has swiped a man's dinner right from underneath his nose once, in broad daylight, and escaped because of his speed and certainty. So what was it that was making a job like this so hard? That was a foolish question of course.

Because he didn't want to steal their food. Of all the things in this camp he wanted, he just wanted to be with Sona. A vision of fantasy flashed in his mind. It was a simple one: Malkus and Sona, playing their songs in the woods, on the open road, at the setting sun. They would break bread together, share a drink, and occasionally even got into trouble. It was a simple and innocent fantasy to be sure, but the reality was that Malkus was just a dirty thief looking for an easy meal and an easy life. Why work and suffer for meager gains when you could just take from those who've already done the hard work? That's how Malkus had survived for this long. He didn't know a thing about foraging for food or surviving in the wilds like this. He barely knew how to make fire, and he only stomached bugs not for any nutritional value, but out of desperation. Malkus wanted to live it easy, but he also wanted the luxury of companionship and, dare he ask, love. But alas, those weren't things he could steal with quick hands or a knife held to a throat.

The longer he lingered, the more he could also smell the food the campers had. He could smell salted meats, preserved fruits, bread and even some alcohol. But the more he smelled, the more he noticed something putrid. The scent of piss and dirt, of rusted metal and dried blood. Of death and war. That's when Malkus's eyes widen and he realized something very horrific. "Orcs!"

Malkus berated himself for his foolishness. He found orcish tracks near the camp, but they weren't merely wandering. He should have known that they didn't go closer to the camp because they didn't need to. They were scouting and found them, that's why the prints where so fresh and why they didn't come immediately. After all, why attack with five men when you can attack with twenty? Malkus could smell their ilk even from where he was at, but he couldn't tell from scent alone how many or where they were coming from. Only that they were coming, and were probably downwind.

Gritting his teeth, Malkus grabbed his Kukri. While he feared crowds, he hated orcs. If they were coming here, he didn't need to imagine what they'd do if they managed to overpower the group. If they were lucky, they'd just be killed. Otherwise... He didn't want to think about it. But what could he really do? Malkus knew he could kill maybe two or three. Five if he was lucky. But he can't take on a hold band himself, not without preparation. And he couldn't really rely on the others in the camp not to kill him, incidentally or not. He was a half-orc after all, and from a distance he probably didn't look too different from a regular orc. He should just leave. If anything, he could pick the bones afterwords for food, money, and literally anything else. But of course... There was Sona too. That damned elf, always on Malkus's mind, turning him stupid and making him act strange. He cursed his own lust and desires for making him act outside of his own self-interest.

So to quell these treacherous thoughts from confusing him further, Malkus made up his mind. Sona was going to be his. If he was going to suffer through the angst of losing her or being made to confront his own fears, then he intends to use her as his motivation. If he could have Sona, then he would have nothing to worry about. If he had to suffer the idea of being with her "friends", then he'll make sure she makes it worth his while. Malkus had enough of this uncertainty and confusion. Gripping his big blade and ready to draw his fighting knives, Malkus continued to stalk the camp in the bush, waiting for the orcs to arrive. Then, he'll strike.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Salrynn
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Salrynn Pretty Reckless

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Location: the outside world
Interacting with:Alto


Sona sighed as Satilla didn’t respond. But that’s fine, she had to get ready for the day ahead! Standing up she looked around quickly to find any bushes around that contained berries or something edible of the sorts, sadly there was none. Looking to her shoulder she looked to her bird companion and bit her lower lip before poking the tip of her ears “Sorry, Alto. No food that I can see that’s for both of us” Alto chirped unhappily, but at least Sona was honest in her words. “It’s ok! We can find some la-”

"We got company and it ain't the friendly sort this time,"

Sona didn’t have the time to finish her sentence, she had to get ready immediately! “Let’s go Alto!” She nodded to her little bird companion and rushed over to her harp immediately “Let’s get this thing sorted” She told herself as she adjusted the strings quickly… the strings were getting weaker and weaker, this is not good if they were to break during the fight, so she will keep an eye on them for now. She also had to make sure she kept her dagger near her for the close and personal experiences. She didn’t know what else to get ready for, she had everything she needed… didn’t she??

Afterwards the blonde let her feet chase each other as she looked around to see what the others were doing and to see if she can help with anything at all "Does anyone need some help??” The bard questioned before turning around some more, she bit her lower lip in excitement and worry. What if she failed her team?? No, she couldn’t think like that right now… she had to mentally prepare herself for what was to come. She doesn’t know what that may be but she is ready for anything that will come running to her.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by rivaan
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rivaan

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Satilla Valen


Location: Lost north of Salarn
Interacting With: The Medieval X-Men


“Good morning to you too.” Satilla replied with a smile as the elf approached her. She seemed like a very nice person from the outset, but the witch knew that was not always the case so she just kept an idea of possible bad outcomes... just in case. She smiled once more at the elf and made a notion for the elf to join and sit next to her if she so wanted.

“Ahh yes... I was sneaking about back then... I'm pretty bad at it as it turned out.” She said with a shy smile and nodded.” Thank you... I hope it doesn't turn into a habit.” She added with joking voice.” The sneaking about I mean...”

“Skittles?” Satilla asked as she stroked the fur of her cat.” He came to me actually... He's my familiar, you see. He appeared when I became a witch.” She explained and took him up, ready to hand the animal to the elf.” You can take him if you want. He is soft, warm and cuddly. Also will not cause problem, being a familiar makes him incredibly smart... most of the time he just stands around.” The witch explained and followed the elf's gaze to her own animal. A small bird it seemed.” Skittles also won't target your bird as pray. Frankly he prefers cooked food usually... and I've never had a case where he would kill people's small animals before. He actually used to play with another's pet mouse... To this day I've never again seen a cat giving a mouse rides.”

It was then that the silver haired archer returned and delivered the news... orcs! Satilla shuddered at the thought. She evaded them for over a week and now on her first day after a nice camp night, they appear! She really didn't want to have to fight, but seemingly had no choice in the matter. She was going to help these people. After all they did help her! That said, Satilla nearly fell backwards when she saw Cyneburg transform into a bear! That was a big bear!

After a moment she took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. This was not a wild bear so it should be any problem right? It was a person transformed into a bear, so in theory it wasn't as scary... Let's hope the theory was sound here. She quickly stood up and prepared to fight, quickly taking her wooden staff in her hands.” I can heal a lot in case any of you get's injured... thought nothing too lethal... I don't have that kind of power, reviving people is out of my reach...”
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Lady Amalthea
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Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: After Sunrise on the 2nd day
Weather: Storm is setting in, a light sprinkling of broken rain has begun to fall. Only a few drops are making is through the canopy as of yet. The winds have picked up substantially now, whipping things around and picking up light objects that are not grounded; such as tent flaps.
General Ambiance: High Alert
Location: North of Salarn in the region of Gorlf. South west of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz
Setting: Gorlf Northern Territory




And so it begins. Your camp is situated in the woods far from the line of sight to the road the main group traveled in on. In the center of the camp is the fire, no longer burning but the embers of the wood are still smoldering and glow with heat. Various makeshift places of rest for those that spent the night. Using the fire as the center of your compass - South was the village many of you left from at the 6 o'clock position; the wagon with Cremwise is located to the east at the 3 o'clock position. Krya came back into the camp and is at the 10 o'clock position at the north west side with an arrow knocked into place and her bow raised, pointing towards the tree line; Ash, her Dire Wolf, is standing beside her growling with bared teeth.

You smell the stench of rotting flesh and Orc on the winds before they appear. Then they do. They do not charge but slowly breach the line of trees from the 5 o'clock position to the 12 o'clock position. There are 11 total Orcs and they are set up as follows.

5 - Orc: Priest - War Type - Wielding Hammer, one handed wield
5:30 - Orc: Lancer - Mounted - Long Sword Drawn
6 - Goblin: Alchemist - Unknown Type - Palming an opaque flask
6:15 - Orc: Monk - Hand To Hand Type - Spiked gloves
7 - Orc: Fighter - No Special Type - Great Axe, two handed wield
7:45 - Orc: Archer - No Special Type - Long Bow aimed at Kyra/Ash
8 - Orc: Mage - Glass Cannon Type - Spell at the ready
8:05 - Orc: Fighter - Tank Type - Standing just enough off to the side of 8 to grant a straight line of casting but well enough in front of to be a wall
9 - Goblin: Thief - Unknown Type - Two daggers drawn
10 - Goblin: Fighter - Unknown Type - Whip
11 - Orc: Beastmaster - Mounted on Horse - Two jackals at his side

All Goblins and Magic Using Orcs are in padded leather, Rest are in light armors. These creatures vary in strength but are on a comparable "level" to you all; so this will not be a one hit wonder type of fight. Chose what you attack my their "times" and refer to them as such in your post to cut down on confusion. Use "time" locations to help tell of how you attack. You will control what you attack personally; how they attack you - you may NOT say what attacks anyone else. Now, claim rotation and call number in OOC and then begin. Welcome to Thunderdome.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Dragoknighte
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Cyneburg

Location: The campsite, 9 o' clock
Attacking: The Orc Mage


Cyneburg took a moment to contemplate the cook's question before the orcs would arrive. Well she did do her business in the woods. It was where she spent the vast majority of her time. However, most druids with built homes had an out house of some kind that suited the environment they lived in. Or was there some kind of added metaphor behind that question she didn't get? In any case, she couldn't answer him because she was a bear.

What she could do was pick out which of the orcs she would attack first.

Directly in front of her was a goblin with twin daggers. She could probably kill it with a single swipe of her paw, but the trouble would actually be hitting the little one in the first place. Overall, a waste of the bulk and power she had as a bear.

To her left was another goblin with a whip. The same went for this one. Furthermore, she was unarmored and whips hurt. No thank you.

And to her left were what obviously was a mage accompanied by a big guy with a shield and spear acting as a wall for his squishy friend. They would do.

The bear began to move, charging towards the warrior and mage. The acceleration was a bit slow, but once a bear started moving, it was very difficult to stop. The warrior protectively moved in front of the mage, shield at the ready and spear at prime poking position. He thrust the spear at Cyneburg, who moved to the side just enough enough so that it would only stab the bear's shoulder before slamming into the armored man with the entirety of a bear's weight.

The fighter had made a valiant effort, but physics dictated that he would not be able to stand up against the attack. He flew away from the mage (who dived out of the way just in time), crashing into a nearby tree. The mage took advantage of his prone position and cast a Grease spell on the point of impact (between the bear and the orc). Off balance as she was, the grease only further complicated matters, causing the bear to lose her balance and fall prone onto the ground.

The mage was the first to recover from the three's prone position and quickly prepared another spell, this one much flashier. A bolt of lightning shot out from his hand, hitting the bear directly on its side, burning fur and flesh equally. The bear roared out in anguish before shakily getting on its feet and turning towards the wizard. The wizard took a step back and stepped into the tree behind him. The bear lunged forward and caught the wizard with a paw, knocking the small man to the ground with a sick thud.

For a few moments the bear stood there, breathing hard. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in her other side. The other orc stood there, its spear embedded in between two of the bear's ribs. He pulled out the spear and grit his teeth to stab it again. Perhaps this one would finish it off. But the spear found itself piercing thin air. He looked left and right and saw nothing. Then he looked down at a trail of blood that lead right up to his feet. There was now a wounded and very angry looking snake climbing up his body (armor made for a surprisingly workable climbing surface). He ditched his weapons and tried to pull it off his body, grabbing it below the neck. The serpent hissed and sunk its fangs deep into his arm.

On reaction, he threw the snake as far away from himself as he could. The serpent weakly slithered away and then the world started to spin before going black.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Lucius Cypher
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Malkus

Location: Hiding behind a tree near the orcs.
Actions: About to geek an orc.


When the orcs came out from the forest, Malkus stayed hidden. He smelled them near, and indeed once they stepped out he could see one of them to his left just a few feet away. If he was fast enough, he could come out of hiding and stab this orc in the back. But that was sloppy; something you'd expect a dumb thug to do. Malkus wasn't so cocky to think he could get away with something so half-assed. No, he needed to be... Smarter then that. So the first thing he did was take out a small vial of venom. Just a little container of poison from his pet snake, Skinny. A relatively weak poison, sure, but Malkus had plenty to spare. He coated a dagger and his Mr. Slashy with two vials and moved into position. He wasn't going to leave the bush because the orc nearest to him also had an orc riding a huge horse near him. As long as Malkus stayed in the bush, the horse would have a hard time reaching him, and thus the orcish warrior on the horse would need to dismount and get into Malkus's element.

But between coating the poison and getting into position, a freaking bear attacked! Malkus had no idea where the bear came from, but if he had to guess it belonged to someone in the camp. There was no way a normal bear would have just come out of the forest to brawl with these orcs. But Malkus could use this confusion to his advantage. While the orcs may have been preoccupied with the sudden arrival of the bear, the half-orc threw his dagger into the back of the lightly armored orc, as if it was a dart. He aimed for the small of the orc's back, where the armor was thinnest and the dagger would be harder to remove if it hits. This way the poison will have more time to spread through the body and paralyze the orc, removing him from the fight long enough for Malkus to take out the others.

Whether or not Malkus's attack hit, missed, or even killed, he didn't stay to watch. He left the bush and got ready to ambush the horseman, hiding behind a tree with another dagger ready. No doubt when the horseman notices his ally with a dagger in his back he'd try to watch for a possible assassin from behind, but Malkus banked on this. If the horseman did try to watch his friend's back, he wouldn't notice Malkus as he went after him, using another dagger (Albeit not poisoned) to kill his horse. Malkus wasn't unaware of the others either, and if on the off chance they find him he still had his main knife ready to cut down anyone who got close.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Salrynn
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Salrynn Pretty Reckless

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Location: the outside world
Interacting with:Alto and the goblin with 2 daggers


Sona looked up as the Goblins and Orcs revealed themselves “Alto… get up to that tree” Alto flew away to a tree for the time being. Sona looked to see where they were placed and she was a bit nervous… she hasn’t done a fight in a long time during her travels. But after taking a good look around she noticed one of them was a goblin with a pair of daggers. Sona could pretty much size up against that goblin with a few swipes of her dagger and maybe a couple of elemental songs from her violin. Yeeessss that will do just the trick… Sona walked up to the Goblin with her harp in her hand and started to play the song of elements, this will grab the goblins attention.

The goblin suddenly looked around to hear the beautiful sound of a harp and looked around to see Sona, the goblin didn’t hesitate to charge at the blonde elf and charged at her. It’s green, miserable skin looking like a sulking piece of shiz, he wasn’t impressed and he threw tried to slice the bards feminine arm, but he failed as Sona gracefully span out of the way, so he tried again and again. Sona only managed to escape one this time with her spinning as the Goblin sliced her leg, and the blood was dripping. Of course this set Sona back slightly as her arm stang with this pain, but she wouldn’t give up on her song and she finally cast it.

She played the song of elements successfully and her harp spewed out a fireball towards the goblin and it aimed for his hand, dropping one of his daggers in the fight to cool his hand down. Sona placed her harp down and then got her dagger out. But wait, this goblin… She had another idea.

The goblin then charged for her again, but she placed her foot in front of her, the goblin stopped running and he hurt his chest. Sona couldn’t cope anymore, her blood was dripping profoundly from her leg and if she continued she could possibly faint due to blood loss. She couldn’t let this happen…

“LEAVE!” Sona boomed before charging at the goblin, but he dodged “You little shit!” she shouted, it seems she is learning some exotic language from the pugilist, she promised to never say that word again as she finally kicked the goblin with her good leg “You will not do anything…” Suddenly the sounds of a bird chirping can be heard and Alto dived in to help by distracting the goblin, flying in front of the goblins face and what not. “Alto!” Sona shouted before charging at the goblin and stabbing the goblin. He then fell flat on the floor, whether it was fatigue or if it’s because she killed the little bugger, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she knelt afterwards and looked quickly for her bag of herbs and for her mortar and pestle “Oh no… where could it be”
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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Sigil
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Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Camp
Interacting With: Medieval X-Men, Cremwise, Cyneburg


Frig. Doublefrig.

Yes, two separate frigs sounded in his mind; the first being the appearance of the group of armed and angry Orcs, the second being the swift injury of his teammates. No, this would not do. Adrenaline coursed through Keystone's blood, dilating pupils and energizing muscles, his senses sharpening in the face of very unpopular odds.

Barely controlled rage colored his face, held back in a tenuous grip by the iron will of his training. His anger was a tool to be used at his discretion; it was not his master. Not anymore.

Regardless, a growl escaped his lips as he opened himself to a portion of his fury, pointing it directly at the Orc with spiked gloves. If nothing else, he would challenge the creature most like himself in this brawl. Not that he gave a rats' hindparts about glorious, honorable combat; he might just have had something to prove. Besides, pugilists deserved pugilists, especially out here in the sticks and mud, away from their more urban environs. He nodded directly at his chosen opponent, and charged.

Five quick strides powered the broad Human into melee range with Spikey Orc, the balls of his feet connecting with the soft earth beneath him. His arms raised into close, parallel lines in front of himself, fists halfway closed. A very occidental technique, familiar to most who spent any time near a warehouse fight or brawler's pit. He closed to strike what promised to be a powerful, crippling blow, moving his arms apart just a little more for the balance necessary to flatten this supposed Orc Pugilist.

It would have been a glorious hit. One that survivors of the skirmish (of both sides) would have talked about for many years to come. Sadly, it did not make connection. His intended target was no stranger to these techniques, and when the stalwart brawler came charging at him, he knew exactly how to counter it. An instant before Keystone got to him, the Orc stepped forward and turned to the side, launching a swift jab into the hole the prideful Human left in his defense. The opening Keystone left in his handwork was obvious; only an amateur would have been that stupid as to open himself up as such to end a fight quickly. His glove spikes would penetrate flesh and break out teeth. Hell, the bastard might even lose an eye.

Except Keystone wasn't stupid.

He fell to his knees, skidding feet forward in the mud. The Orc's jab thrust solidly into the area his face used to occupy, catching only air. The look of surprise on the face of the brawler Orc was priceless, but Keystone couldn't see it. He was already behind his would be dispatcher, going after his real target: The Goblin with the ceramic flask.

Continuing to ride his momentum, he transferred the force of his movement into a rising uppercut. Stone-conditioned fist connected with Goblin crotch with the force of a charging stallion. The creature's four and a half foot frame immediately crumpled forward as its eyes crossed impossibly close; so close they started to rotate into its skull. The air was driven from the foul thing's lungs, so powerful was the pressure to its pelvis from the 'nad squishing powerfist, the noise issuing from the pitiable creature would remain in the collective racial memory of his people until the death of the age, and even longer in bardic tale. It was a horrible, twisting scream, part cry for help, but mostly a grievous and squeaky grovel to be released from this horrifying pain with the sweet gift of a quick and merciful parting of its soul from this earth.

Animals capable of fleeing the forest, sensing the unnatural, guttural hell inflicted on the poor goblin, ran for their very lives. Nearby Fey folk, sophisticated and safe with their concealing magics, perched safe atop the higher branches of nearby trees in sacred and protected groves, witnessed the act via scrying inside their own space of earth and trees, exclaimed "Daaaaaaaaaamn!" and professed a lack of belief in a higher power after having witnessed such a spectacle. Some exchanged coins, wagers grudgingly settled. A brief conversation ensued concerning asking the possibly neutered Goblin if he would join the Dryad Boys Choir, owing to the newfound ability to hit notes so high as to elude even the most undeveloped Fey child's vocal limitations.

It was a shuddering, screaming, whimpering breath - an exhalation of one who knew what it meant to truly be damned; the noise one may make, were they mercilessly rectally violated with a seven foot, red-hot iron cactus. Such was the suffering heaped upon this green and floundering bastard. But it didn't end there, oh no. It did not cease.

The nearest Orcs stood in mute horror, faces screwed into incredulous visages of confusion and fear. Reflexively, many covered their own manly bits with their hands in sympathetic pain as their outies became innies, and at least temporarily, their testicles were purely ornamental in nature. All except for the one who took a swing at Keystone earlier, the one with the spiked gloves. He turned about just in time to see the Errant Pugilist snatch up his Goblin companion and wrap his thick arms around the still quivering 'nad obliteration victim. Keystone's back was partially to him. He wouldn't get a better chance to avenge his partner's danglies.

The Orc stepped in close and hammered in a notable inverted fist strike, aimed at Keystone's kidney. The brawler noted the incoming attack and was able to twist his body just enough to make the connection in a area slightly less vital. The spikes of the Orc's massive fist were able to penetrate the tooled hide of Keystone's coat and enter his torso, scraping along his lowest rib but blissfully unable to dig deep enough to puncture a lung. The sheer force of the blow removed the air from his chest, and Keystone swore he could have heard a cracking sound that was either a seam in his leather breaking or some manner of osseous tissue at the fracturing point. Keystone spun around to avoid another such strike he likely could not mount a passable defense against, only to barely avoid a sweeping haymaker aimed at his skull.

The spikes tore shallow furrows in from his cheekbone to his jawline. It was just torn skin, so far. As long as he could finish this before his energy wore down and most of his blood still moved within his body, he would be okay. Now, Keystone had stamina. No question. Blood, well, no more than the next guy his size. Keystone stepped out of swinging range of his opponent, letting the sleeper hold put to the Goblin silence him with a quiet gurgle. At least the screaming stopped.

"Ey, Sunshine. You should kill me, or you should sodding run." He dropped the Goblin into a heap, and stepped over it, intent on pummeling the Orc senseless. The Orc obviously had the same idea, licking his jagged teeth with a long, pointed tongue, fists raised, and closed in on Keystone.

The two clashed, launching immediate, quick punches. Keystone and the Orc both evaded the first exchange, gauging each other's reflexes and comparative strength. It was all our Xiang trained protagonist needed. The Orc was not privy to training of proper footwork, compared to his strength training and fast hands. It was an overbalancing style, not completely unlike the first fighting method Keystone was exposed to. It had weaknesses when tested against a person of broader martial exposure.

Keystone feinted a low attack, providing a high opening for the Orc to exploit. The expected attack was intercepted at the wrist and turned wide as a snap kick took the Orc's balance from him. Keystone followed up with a vicious palm-heel strike, knocking the creature back into a tree with force sufficient to knock the breath from its lungs. The brawler followed up with a jumping backfist, connecting at the temple. Bare fist hit skull, skull hit tree, and the semi-conscious Orc slid to the ground.

The last experience that the Orc was able to register was a dark and heavy weight pressing its head to the ground, and a booming voice, muffled by what he really hoped wasn't the human's arse atop his ears, urgently asking, "CAN YOU SMELL, WHAT THE 'STONE IS COOKIN'?!?" before an unknown force ripped into his face, stealing his life's breath and replacing it with horrifying, odoriferous darkness.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by rivaan
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rivaan

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Satilla Valen


Location: Lost north of Salarn
Interacting With: The Medieval X-Men


As the battle drew imminent, Satilla heard the enemies slightly before they crawled out from the trees due her great hearing. That said, she was at the back of their small group of adventurers. The orcs had them outnumbered and that didn't stand too well with the witch. When the battle broke out, the others around her quickly outpaced her and clashed with the enemies. Satilla stood for a few moments to the back, not engaging any foes. Partly because it took her by surprise how fast the others reacted to get into the fight, part because she felt just a tad bit scared. She had never actually gotten into a fight such as this before. Satilla usually just stuck to healing soldiers in their base camps or in towns... or refugees...

She was torn from her thoughts quickly when Cyneburg clashed with the orcs around the mage looking one. The druid at first seemed to have everything in control, but that quickly turned around. With the losing of balance, the lighting and the stab, Satilla's attention was fully drawn towards Cyneburg. Her inner healer shouted as she moved around, looking for an easier way to get to the druid without getting into the way of the fighting. When the bear turned into a snake and then was thrown away, Satilla's chance appeared.

Quickly running to the unmoving snake, she threw a look around, grabbing Cyneburg to get the transfored druid a few steps back and away from the fighting.” Alright... not alright.. those are serious wounds...” She said with concern. Collecting her mind for a moment, she called her powers, unleashing a serious wounds heal on the druid. With that done, she quickly reached into her witch powers and via her direct touch with the snake, she used her healing HEX for some additional small heal on top of it. Maybe there won't be scars at least? She then looked around to check how the battle was going and if she has to even more to the back with the wounded druid.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Lady Amalthea
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*Quick note before this post begins - There will be errors most likely. I asked for people to denote what they were attacking in their posts by the times I placed for each one. This was not done by all. So I will go under assumptions.



Kyra Altham

Location: Gorlf Northern Territory
Interacting With: 10, 11 & his Jackels

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Krya stood there near the west end of the camp site, and watched the fray unfold around her as her bow string was pulled taunt towards the Goblin before her (10). From what she could denote from around her all hell was breaking loose but her eyes remained where her target was for now. Seems most of the group was hitting the ambush at it's center and leaving the flanks open. This was going to be a cluster fuck. She hated cluster fucks, they irked her, but she really couldn't expect any better from this rag tag group of people. This was not her Kings Guard who had fought together and trained together for years, who knew each others strengths and weaknesses, what another would do under most any circumstance. This was just a group of people trying to get through the wilderness. Oh well, work with what you have got.

10 let the length of the whip uncurl along the ground as he looked at Kyra with a sickening smile, thick saliva flowing over his teeth and dripping from his chin in long strands. "Fucking Goblins," she muttered under her breath. He was close enough to where his whip would hit her if he went for her and it would cause enough of an issue that if she fired a shot it could miss. This was not the time to miss a shot. Her eyes fixated on 10's wrist, waiting and watching. Then the flick happened, that twitch that occurs right before the rest of the arm and shoulder follow to unleash the whip to break the sound barrier.

Suddenly Kyra changed her aim and let loose her arrow, it flying through the air and sinking into the unsuspecting horses flank, causing it to rear up onto hits hind legs. Flailing about as the horse unseated 11, sending him toppling off the back end to the ground below, crashing into the dirt and mud. The horse whinnying before it tore off through the forest to get away from the fray. Kyra dropped and rolled to the side coming up to 10's side as his whip reached full length where she had once stood. Ash sprung into action, sinking his fangs into Jackal A's throat while it looked at its Beastmaster, crushing it and ripping it out with a single bite of his powerful jaws. The chunk of flesh fell from Ash's jaws, his fur drenched with blood, showing clearly on the white fur of the dire wolf.

Kyra's bow came up as she spun around behind 10, the silver string of the weapon looping to one side of the goblins neck, pulling back hard as 10 dropped his whip, clawing at Kyra and at the bot trying to pull it away from his neck as she dropped to her knees and pulled back. Her muscles tensing as she leaned back, 10 pressing against her chest, still fighting as she tilted her head back and yelled; fueling her motions as the string began to cut through the flesh of the creature. Slowly at first but the more it cut, the more the blood flowed until 10 fell limp against her and Kyra with one last yank sent his head rolling to the ground with a pain expression cemented on the lifeless face.

Ash came out of no where and crashed into 11 as he tried to tackle Krya from the right. The dire wolf was not big enough yet to send a full grown orc to the ground but that didn't stop him from trying, his jaws snapping at 11's face before he was tossed like a rag doll to the side,sliding through the dirt and mud. Kyra quickly coming to her feet, drawing her long sword at her side and eyes narrowing at 11. "Ndengina Savar Ash! Ndengina!" Kyra yelled in Elvish as her grip tightened on her blade. Ash leapt towards Jackal B, placing himself between the remaining Jackal and Kyra. 11 pulled dual axes from his back and towered over Kyra as he stood at his full height of nearly seven feet tall. She didn't step back at his menacing appearance.

"Undur Kurv" 11 uttered at he pointed his right axe beard towards Kyra. She didn't speak Orcish but she seriously doubted it was a compliment.

"Nadorhuan," she smirked as she taunted him to come at her.







Updates

Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: After Sunrise on the 2nd day
Weather: Storm is holding for now.
General Ambiance: Shit hitting the fan is am ambiance isn't it?
Location: North of Salarn in the region of Gorlf. South west of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz
Setting: Gorlf Northern Territory




5 - Orc: Priest - War Type - Wielding Hammer, one handed wield - Dagger in back from Malkus - is trying to reach for the dagger to pull it out but cannot reach it yet, light venom from dagger starting to set in
5:30 - Orc: Lancer - Mounted - Long Sword Drawn - Charging at Keystone
6 - Goblin: Alchemist - Unknown Type - Palming an opaque flask - Killed by Keystone - I think, or was it just his twigs and berries that had their soul leave them? Anywho, declaring dead.
6:15 - Orc: Monk - Hand To Hand Type - Spiked gloves - Assuming this is the Orc Keystone attacked since he referred to the one he attacked as the "spiky one" - Dead TWD Style
7 - Orc: Fighter - No Special Type - Great Axe, two handed wield - Heading towards Cremwise and the Wagon
7:45 - Orc: Archer - No Special Type - Heading towards Cremwise and the Wagon
8 - Orc: Mage - Glass Cannon Type - Spell at the ready - Injured heavily by Cyneburg - on ground, trying to regain his breath and set off another spell
8:05 - Orc: Fighter - Tank Type - Standing just enough off to the side of 8 to grant a straight line of casting but well enough in front of to be a wall - Still standing but injured by Cyneburg, nearly crushed by the weight of the bear form and bleeding from the snake form. (Not sure if the fangs injected venom or not, was not denoted - so will go with nonvenomous bite.)
9 - Goblin: Thief - Unknown Type - Two daggers drawn - Attacked by Sona - Goblin is not moving, could be dead, could just be to weak to move
10 - Goblin: Fighter - Unknown Type - Whip - Decapitated by Kyra
11 - Orc: Beastmaster - Mounted on Horse - Two jackals at his side - Jackal A killed by Ash - Horse injured and running off, Beastmaster and Kyra about to brawl, Jackal B and Ash facing off.

Was not clear on which Orc Malkus hit in the back with the dagger other than it obviously was not the mounted ORC. Am assigning damage to 5 since it was closest to the one of the two mounted ones but there was no mention of the Jackals.

Satilla's healing will effect Cyneburg as much as they allow in their next post.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Sigil
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Sigil Literary Hatchetman

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Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Camp
Interacting With: 5:30 - Orc: Lancer, 5:30 - Horse: Lancer's (Butterstuff), 7 - Orc: Fighter


The indomitable brawler, Keystone, rose from his less-than-ideal seat atop the head of the Orc he had just concussed into oblivion, and took a second to survey his surroundings. This was a problem. His group was outnumbered, disorganized, and lacking in basic, raw combat ability when compared to their aggressors. Despite this, they were not merely mowed down like grass before an arching scythe, which arguably is what the Orcs had in mind. While their immediate doom was not forthcoming, it would arrive nonetheless unless their tactics altered. Keystone took a breath and tried to organize his thoughts.

To begin, he decided to order the attackers in a circular pattern (of purely his own devising, of course) resembling the face of a clock. He had just neutralized Six O'Clock and Six Fifteen, as he reckoned it, and set his sights on the object of his employment: Cremwise's Wagon and the Employer Merchant himself. Unfortunately, two others had also taken direct interest in Cremwise and his stuff. Oh yes, Seven and Seven Forty-Five. It's your turn next.

His plans for the Axe Wielder and the Archer would have to be put on hold, however, as the sound of horse hooves beating rhythmically on the ground came swiftly nearer to the mission-bound Pugilist. Keystone looked to the noise as it was joined by a guttural war cry, screamed with Orcish baritone. Five Thirty, mounted and with sword swinging, closed on his position as he endeavored to move closer to the wagon.

The blade bore down on Keystone from above, expertly swept at his neck from atop charging horse. He barely had time to raise his arms to deflect Five Thirty's longsword, catching the blade across his bracers. Dwarven masterwork clashed against Orcish steel, ringing loud and flatly in the damp morning air. A chip of metal flaked off of the weapon, glinting dully as it twirled in the air, descending earthward. Though the blade was turned, the force of the blow, bolstered by the pressure of sprinting horseflesh, knocked Keystone to the ground.

From his back, Keystone looked to wagon. Cremwise was still in trouble. He had to move, fast.

The Monk-trained fisticuff artisan kicked himself to a standing position. Five Thirty had turned his horse around and kicked it into another short charge, intending to finish what he started. This put Keystone in a bad position - he had to take down a mounted opponent lest said opponent killed him before he could be of any help to his employer. On the other hand, if he didn't do something about the two marauders approaching Cremwise, and right now, this was going to go very bad, very quickly.

In two seconds, maybe three, the Cavalorc would be upon him again, with no guarantee that he could block another incoming attack of this nature. He could scarcely reach the rider, unarmed as he was, with a blow powerful enough to unseat or incapacitate, even if he could get close enough without getting a sword inserted into his face.

Keystone internally sighed, knowing what he must do.

He assumed a low stance, one fist at his hip and one hand in front, two fingers raised to help judge speed and distance. This was tricky, maybe even cruel, but it had to be done. Keystone exhaled and relaxed his body as best he could, given time limitations, and stood directly in the path of the sword, now barreling toward him point first.

"Sorry 'bout this, Butterstuff." he whispered, gritting his teeth in preparation for what was to come.

The instant before his life ended, Keystone cross-stepped to the other side of the approaching animal, spinning his body and planting his feet in such a manner as to imbue a single, devastating hit with as much strength as he could muster. The combined power of the brawler's raw physicality and the charging horse reacted as knuckle met skull. Not his attacker's, but the horse's.

Somewhere inside the beast's cranial cavity, brain jostled against skull twice; one side and then the other. This manifested externally by he horse giving a cross between a very perplexed look and an eye roll, its jaw skewing in one direction and its tongue lolling outstretched to the other. Were horses capable of speech (or anyone, after taking the hit), it would have given a resounding "Wuzzafuck?" before its inevitable collapse. The poor animal's head tilted listlessly to the side and its body followed, crashing to the ground in a breathy glorping sound, like someone dropped a massive sackful of pork chops onto a marble floor.

Five Thirty screamed and gurgled in sheer painful confusion while his leg broke the horse's fall onto the packed ground and remained there, mangled and pinned under eighty-five stone of forcibly unconscious riding beast. His sword lay another arm's length out of reach, but that was hardly his biggest concern at the moment.

Sensing an opening, Keystone looked back to the wagon. They were nearer. He couldn't get to the merchant before the other Orcs did. There was a bit of desperation in his voice as he yelled, "Cremwise!", both to indicate to him that he wasn't forgotten, and to draw the attention of any allies to his peril.

If the Pugilist couldn't get there himself, perhaps something representative of Keystone could. He quickly unsheathed a kunai from his bandoleer and hurled it at Seven, the Orc with the great axe. He seemed the most menacing to the employer at the time, and he wanted to keep his ensorceled, bone-handled seax on him in case the archer next to Seven figured him as a target. The blade sunk into Seven's lower back. Not the lung puncture he was hoping for, but if this didn't distract him, he had a few more that might.

In the back of his mind, Keystone was still irritated that breakfast was interrupted. He was really looking forward to oat bannocks and black tea.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Salrynn
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Salrynn Pretty Reckless

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Location: the outside world
Interacting with:Orc 7:45 (the one with the bows/arrow) and Alto.


Sona looked around as she couldn’t find her baggage. “Oh no” she really was in trouble. But she couldn’t worry about it now. There was an orc placed at 7:45 that was heading towards the wagon and Cremwise. “No!” Sona exclaimed as she got up and instantly ran to position 7:45. She didn’t have time to pick up her harp because she didn’t want it to be stained in blood like her dagger was. But she had to stop the Orc from going in for their sources of travel and fun. And other important stuff was in there for the others to relish upon. It just can’t. And she will NOT let anything happen to that. It would make her friends very sad, did she just think of them as her friends? Oh yes she did. And she didn’t mind that at all.

With Alto flying behind his owner. Sona Charged at that certain Orc, she tried to reduce as much of her limping as possible as blood dripped from her wound onto the floor but it was really difficult to stop. She was sure was going to pass out sooner or later due to blood loss. But maybe… just maybe she can take out this orc before anything happens. What helped was the brawlers shout for attention. This was her chance.

Running behind the orc, she finally jumped on his back in a piggy-back formation and covered his eyes, reducing his sight and rendering him spinning around like a headless chicken “Hey, you big bozo!!!” She shouted and grinned as if it was a battle cry. This wasn’t going to take long at all. Just a slice of his neck and he will be down for sure. But the orc wasn’t going to make this job easy. He was still circling himself around, this orc must dumb, he could just easily fall on his back and squish her or something.

Holding her dagger in an appropriate position. She sliced his neck twice to make sure. The Orc just stopped instantly and THEN fell on his back since Sona made the back become heavier than his front.

Sona was officially squished. But because the Orc was too heavy for her she couldn’t lift him. Oh well. She was getting dizzy anyway…

She finally closed her eyes. She was unconscious. But at least she wasn’t dead like the orc.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Lucius Cypher
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Lucius Cypher Your friendly neighborhood deviant

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Malkus

Location: Next to the Wagon
Actions: Fighting an Orc with a big axe


The horseman near the orc cleric went to attack one of the campers, which was fine with Malkus. Less for him to worry about. Seeing that the cleric was still struggling to remove the dagger malkus first put on the Sleeves of Many Garments. While it might not give him any practical benefits in a fight, it did make a wooden mask for him. With Sona’s poncho and his somewhat human features, Malkus might be able to pass off as not an orc so that Sona’s friends don't try to kill him on sight. Now that being a masked stranger in this chaotic situation wouldn't get him attacked regardless, but every bit helped.

Once he was disguised Malkus went on the attack. He dashed out to the cleric and stabbed his dagger and poisoned kukri into his shoulder. It was quick and we'll executed; Malkus had done this plenty of times before. Which only made things more startling when the cleric wasn't killed.

As the blades sunk into his shoulders and the poison begun to spread, the cleric grabbed his weapon and swung at Malkus's head. Despite being behind the cleric and attacking him when he was unaware, the cleric nearly smashed Malkus's head. The only reason he didn't was because Malkus raised his arm up just in time to block the club, though the knobbly bits did have his arm a nasty new set of bruises. The cleric came up swinging even though Malkus was out of his range. Playing it safe Malkus threw his off-hand dagger at the cleric, aiming for his face. At this range Malkus couldn't miss and he didn't. But the cleric didn't go without one more trick. He casted a spell right before Malkus's dagger went into the orc's eye, killing him.

Malkus didn't know what spell the cleric just used. He wasn't on fire and he could still move. So he wasn't the target. Malkus didn't really have time to figure out what just happened either, so he just looked for his next target. He looked into the camp just in time to see Sona jump onto the back of an orc and slit his throat. That was a ballsy move and Malkus could respect that. Quite honestly seeing Sona slice his neck with a dagger like that made Malkus feel very… Excited. But his excitement soon turned into horror when the orc's Corpse landed and pinned her to the ground. To make matters worse another orcish warrior was near the wagon and looked like he was going to attack Sona.

Something in Malkus snapped. It was a familiar feeling: times in the past when he just forgot about his principles, his code, his fears, his worries, and just went all out into killing someone . He ran towards the orc warrior armed with a greataxe, getting his attention by throwing a dagger at his face. But this warrior was no novice. He deflected the blade with a flick of his axe’s blade and faced the rogue orc. He snarled at Malkus, but he only gave him silence. At this point Malkus was standing protectively next to Sona, who much to his distress, looked dead. ”No no no no!” Malkus screamed in his own mind, unsheathing one of his longer daggers as he got ready to fight the orcish warrior.
Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Dragoknighte
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Dragoknighte

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Cyneburg
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Satilla

Location: The campsite, 8:30(C) + 8:32(S)
Attacking: The Eight o' Clockers (Orc Mage [8] and Fighter [8.05]


The Orc Fighter [.05] picked up his spear off the ground and scqanned the area. Breathing came shallow and raggedly and dizziness was a sensation that came in waves. It would behoove him to run away from the fight, but right now he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight against any of the warriors that seemed to be at the camp. He spotted to his left a human girl in white: either a caster or a noble of some kind. Either way an easy mark under normal circumstances. But that wasn't all, she was holding the serpent that had just injured him. Chlenching his teeth, the Fighter grasped the rough wooden handle with both hands and charged at Satilla.

Satilla quickly reached the conclusion she really needed to get even further away with the druid as she noticed the mage and the spear orcs eyeing her as she did held the person who nearly turned them into minced meat in bear form. She jumped up and started running towards the campfire.

Every step the Fighter[Who would be around 8:20 now] took brought all kinds of pain to himself. His ribs creaked, his organs groaned, and his arm burned more with every heartbeat. But the chemical cocktail running through his veins kept all those sensations at the back of his head. He had a job to do, and he would die before he would leave this camp without securing at least one kill. The woman might be unhindered by armor or injuries, but he had reach and raw determination. Before Satilla made it to the campfire, he was within range for a strike. Drawing on his reserve of energy, the Fighter burst forward in a sprint, spear forward. After skewering the woman he though, the serpent would be crushed and then he could consider his part of the raid complete.

Skittles, having his head poke through the lit of Satilla's bag and looking behind the woman, meowed as soon as the orc had sprinted to deliver a blow on the witch. The moment she heard it, Satilla by trained habit made a dodge to the right almost with a jump, landing about a meter to the side[About 8:10], throwing a quick glance at the orc. Now holding the snake only with her right arm, she had the staff in her left, ready to block or swing in case of need as she dashed once more to the fire.

The orc had the advantage of momentum when it came to making it to the bonfire first. He cut off Satila from her path [putting him also at 8:10, but less than a meter away from the bonfire], using the tip of his spear to try blocking any further movement inward.

Satilla was caught off guard by the fact the orc actually beat her to the fire even with his injuries. She halted as the spear was pointed at her. There was notmuch options to do right now She still had her staff which might actually provide her the chance she was looking for. Without second thought she moved forward, pulling her left arm before her body and jumped to the back.

It was around this time that the snake came to and realized what was going on around it. It wriggled in Satilla's grasp, trying to free itself. Satilla could see that the orc's vision locked onto the serpent to the exclusion of much else.

The witch moved her right arm backwards, releasing her hold of the snake as it came about. The druid had her own ways to fight and now that she was all healed up, Cyneburg was going to be fine... at least till she wounds herself again.

Having her right arm free, Satilla took her staff in both hands, ready for a fight for wielding it in one was pretty much impossible. Now ready for a proper fight, she gulped, hoping she would live to see the next dawn. Without another second to lose, she jumped forward, silently, swinging her staff downwards at the head of the orcwith the sspear[8:10], using his distraction with Cyneburg.

The orc blinked, taking a couple steps back before falling backwards onto the ground, not dead, but unconscious and still very much injured. To Satilla's side where there was empty space there was suddenly a veiled woman.

"The mage is about to throw something, I would get ready to move." About 12 meters away, the mage[8] was making and gestures and mumbling under his breath. From his hand flew a great ball of fire aimed at Satilla and Cyneburg. The explosion was great, but Satilla managed to dive out of the way soon enough to avoid taking the brunt of the blast. Cyneburg and the fighter weren't so lucky, the former's clothes catching flame and the latter getting roasted to death while unconscious, a victim of friendly fire.

Using her last shape change of the day, the flaming druid became a hawk that was not on fire due to the disappearance of any flammable clothes the humanoid had been wearing. It flew at the mage [8] in a whirldwind of talons. However, the mage managed to keep the bird at bay with his staff, a single swing potentially enough to decomission the fragile body of the hawk. However, if anything was accomplished, it was distracting the spellcaster from throwing around any more area of effect attacks.

Having being nearly roasted by the bastard of a mage, Satilla watched with narrowed angry eyes as Cyneburg attacked him in a hawk form. Still a hawk was just that so she needed some help! Taking a deep breath, Satilla charged the distracted at the moment mage. Holding her staff as a spear, she dashed forward, before raising the staff and swinging it downwards at the head of the mage[8]!

Blind-sided, the mage fell onto the ground face first. However, he wasn't out just yet. The mage rolled onto his back and started to gesture again.

"Stop crawling already! Die!" Satilla called, swinging her staff at the downed mage yet again to interrupt his casting.

Alongside Satilla's staff came an axe that embedded itself in the throat of the mage. The handle traced its way back to Cyneburg, whose head was bowed down so only the top of her head was visible. Her clothes had holes burned in them here and there, but all in all, it could have been worse. After all hide wasn't all that burnable.

Satilla pulled a step back with a deep breath and a relieve sigh as the mage was also finally taken care of. She survived this battle and felt so glad about it." Are you alright, do you need more healing?" She asked Cyneburg.

The druid looked up at Satilla, her left hand raised up to cover her lower face.

"I think you should wait to ask questions like that until after the fighting is over with."
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Lady Amalthea
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Kyra Altham

Location: Gorlf Northern Territory
Interacting With: 11, Ash with remaining Jackel

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Nearly seven foot tall Orc vs a little taller than five foot tall human. Yeah, the odds did not look for this fight and Kyra wasn't naive enough to think anything else. Strength was not going to win out in this fight, neither was stamina. She would have to be quick about it and with the way the fight was going; the quicker the better. If she had had a moment to be grateful that Ash was with her tending to the Jackal she would have been but again, speed was essential. "Bide your time though," she thought to herself. Even when speed was of the essence, jumping feet first into things usually wasn't the best way to go.

11 glared towards her as she brought her sword before her, gripping it loosely with both hands. She stood there, unwavering, with her feet just shoulder width apart. She wasn't watching the orcs eyes, she was watching his form. Concentration had kicked in and the world around her seemed to fade away. Only what needed to be focused on was at that moment. "Just a little longer," she told herself. 11's hip finally shifted; he began to move. Left foot, right foot; swinging the axe in his right hand out as he moved to charge her, the one in his left pulling back slightly. Kyra still didn't move as he came closer. The tip of her blade even with her chin as she continued to grasp it in both hands. "Wait for it." The axe from his right came swinging in horizontally when the orc felt he was close enough to strike. For him it was his midsection, for Kyra the blade of his axe would connect with her throat. His left hand rising in the air, bent on coming down on her right side to keep her from behind able to move out of the way.

For Kyra stepping back was not an option. Ash and Jackal were jaws locked behind her in their own battle at this point. Stepping to the left meant sure beheading. Stepping to the right meant a skull crushing blow to the skull. Up was not an option right then. The Orc was much taller than she and she had no room to take enough short steps to go over the man. Forward. Forward was the only way to go. And now. Just as the right axe came swinging through Kyra dropped to her right knee, her left leg sprawling out in front of her and sliding through the mud. The slick surface aiding in her drop right between 11's legs. Her sword, just being gripped in her left hand came down and through the orcs inner right thigh; severing through the adductors in one clean downwards slice. Her right hand gabbed his left ankle; haulting her momentum. A quick turn of the hilt in her hand and a drive straight up through the groin and into the body cavity was all she needed, the tip of her sword's blade shimmering red as it peeked out through his ribs on the front of his chest. Spinning on her rear as she pulled her legs in together she slide back on her heels and stood up behind 11, ripping her sword out from what appeared to be his rectum from the vantage point of others.

11 toppled to the ground, lifeless . His face crushing into the mud and earth below for a brief moment before it was covered by the lifeless body of a jackal as Ash tossed the remains of his own foe atop of his master. Kyra shook her head slightly, clearing out the concentration so she could focus on her surroundings and took note of what else was happening around her right then. There were still a few standing or attempting to and it seemed several of those that had joined the group for the night were injured. Injuries would have to wait. The few remaining were on the other side of the camp from her; that's where she needed to get to first. Shaking the remains off her sword she slipped around the back side of the camp fire; moving counter clockwise to the back of the wagon, sheathing her sword as she went.







Updates

Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: After Sunrise on the 2nd day
Weather: Storm is holding for now.
General Ambiance: Shit hitting the fan is am ambiance isn't it?
Location: North of Salarn in the region of Gorlf. South west of the Orc Settlement of Yzewz
Setting: Gorlf Northern Territory




5 - Orc: Priest - War Type - Wielding Hammer, one handed wield - Dagger pulled out and pulling 5:30 out from under the horse.
5:30 - Orc: Lancer - DisMounted - Long Sword Drawn - Charging at Keystone - left leg pinned under unconscious horse
6 - Goblin: Alchemist - Unknown Type - Palming an opaque flask - Killed by Keystone - I think, or was it just his twigs and berries that had their soul leave them? Anywho, declaring dead.
6:15 - Orc: Monk - Hand To Hand Type - Spiked gloves - Assuming this is the Orc Keystone attacked since he referred to the one he attacked as the "spiky one" - Dead TWD Style
7 - Orc: Fighter - No Special Type - Great Axe, two handed wield - trying to get a dagger out of his back
7:45 - Orc: Archer - No Special Type - Dead with Sona pinned beneath him
8 - Orc: Mage - Glass Cannon Type - Spell at the ready - Injured heavily by Cyneburg - on ground, trying to regain his breath and set off another spell
8:05 - Orc: Fighter - Tank Type - Calling dead due to injuries and venom eventually taking full hold.
9 - Goblin: Thief - Unknown Type - Two daggers drawn - Attacked by Sona - Goblin is not moving, could be dead, could just be to weak to move
10 - Goblin: Fighter - Unknown Type - Whip - Decapitated by Kyra
11 - Orc: Beastmaster - Mounted on Horse - Two jackals at his side - Beastmaster - dead by Kyra, Jackals dead by Ash

*Special note - When attacking you need to denote where you are attacking. If you say shoulder - well which one? Left or Right? Front or Back? Which had are you using to attack with? Left or right? Are you on their left or right side? Did you drop to your left or right knee? Are you swiping from left to right or right to left, up or down? Further we get along the closer I will be paying attention to these things. Do not leave an opening for me to go - well you damaged one arm and then attacked with a sword but you didn't state which arm was damaged and which you attacked with; so I am dropping the GM card and saying you attacked with your damaged arm, not realizing fully how damaged it was because of the rush of a battle and you just screwed yourself and hit that fucker with the force of a feather falling to the ground after a pillow fight. Do not leave me openings to exploit.

@Lucius CypherYour previous post is considered null and void in its entirety. Reason for this is because you did not, for the second time use the time denotions either in your header or in your post for your attack as was instructed of in the beginning of the fight and reminded of in the last update. The first round of incorrect posting was given a freebie, second time = post never happened. (And no you may not reuse anything when your turn comes up again, you must pick up from your post before the cancel one and start from there.)

@Dragoknighte@Salrynn @Sigil @Rivaan - So this means that if you are going to reply to Malkus you have to do it from the post before the update before this one since the last post is null and void.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Lucius Cypher
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Lucius Cypher Your friendly neighborhood deviant

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Malkus

Location: In a bush at 6
Actions: Hiding and watching the camp


Malkus stayed hidden as the 5:30 orc charged at one of the Keystone. He seemed to be ignoring the fact that orc 5 got a dagger in the back, but that was fine with Malkus. That just meant he was still hidden, so he quietly put his blades away and took out his shortbow. Move away from his previous location from 5 to 5:30, Malkus lined up a shot on the 5 orc. He was still struggling to get the dagger out of his back, but Malkus would put an end to that quickly. An arrow flew out from bushes and struck the 5:30 orc in the left shoulder. Malkus was trying to aim for the head, but he supposed at least his arrow hit. Surprisingly enough however, the 5 orc wasn't dead yet. Dying perhaps, but even with his dying breath he picked up his weapon and cast some sort of spell. Malkus has seen magic but he was no wizard and thus didn't know what the cleric just did. Malkus wasn't on fire however, so he wasn't an attack. And the priest still looked wounded, so he didn't heal himself. But the fact he was still alive made the rogue half-orc notch another arrow and shot it at the 5 orc. This time the arrow made it's mark and pierced through the left side of the orc's head. Fairly certain that he was now dead, Malkus stealthy moved on.

During his time hiding much fighting has happened. Most of the campers appeared to be alive, though from his position Malkus couldn't really ascertain all of them. The orc from 5:30 was now unmounted and engaging in combat with someone Malkus guessed was either a monk or a brawler, since he fought with only his fists. The same one threw a dagger at orc from 7, a big one with a big axe. He was accompanied by an archer from 7:45, but that one was shortly taken out by Sona of all people. The elf didn't really strike Malkus has a killer, especially one who'd do something as jump on an orc and slit their throat, but he could respect her methods. It was a little less impressive when the now-dead orc from 7:45 fell and pinned her to the ground. He was fairly certain Sona wasn't dead, but she was likely out of this fight.

An explosion took Malkus's attention from the others and he noted two of the women in the camp were fighting more orcs. He guessed one was some sort of wizard. He only managed to catch a glimpse of the fight after the explosion however, noting a hawk clawing at the from 8 orc who dressed as a mage. He was then taken down by Satilla who smashed the orc from 8 into the ground. The hawk then turned into a person and brought an axe into his neck. Malkus himself wasn't certain if that orc from 8 was the mage or not, but at least that was one more orc down.

There were plenty of bodies scattered about and the situation was a bit too chaotic for Malkus to get a good handle on. He was vaguely aware Kyra and her direwolf as they were hard to miss, but between watching Keystone and Sona defend the wagon and catching the last moments of Satilla and Cyneburg, all he could tell from Kyra was that she killed another orc and her direwolf killed a few more animals. It looked like the fight was just about finished, but there was still the single orcish fighter from 7 that was near the wagon. He vaguely remembered hearing Keystone yell in it's general direction, but Malkus couldn't recall what he shouted. If he had to guess though, the wagon was important and it was vital for the orcs not to get the wagon. Malkus could care less if the king himself was in the wagon; Malkus was more concerned that the orc from 7 was dangerously close to Sona, who wasn't really in any position to defend herself. However, Malkus was too far away from the orc at 7 to get a good shot at his vitals. He could always just try to take the shot anyways, but for maximum effectiveness he'd need to get closer.

But would he dare do something so foolish? Malkus felt like he did his part: that orc cleric from 5 was dead now and it appeared that the party had managed to slaughter a good amount of the orcs. Assuming that this final warrior wasn't the champion of the local tribes or actually a demon, he felt that they could take care of the orcs themselves. Not to mention that Malkus would rather not be found by the group even if he did help. There would be too many misunderstandings: he wouldn't be able to argue his case as they cut him down simply for being an half-orc who was nearby. Malkus couldn't even rely on Sona's good will to vouch for him since she seemed to be knocked out. No, instead Malkus continued to hide, moving from 5:30 to 6. He still had his bow out and ready to take a shot if need be, but at this point he'd just watch the camp carefully to make sure nothing else decides to show up and complicate matters.

In the back of his mind, Malkus was still worried about the orc from 5. What sort of spell did he cast and did it work? The half-orc guessed that he'll find out soon enough.
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