Blarg... Something I've been putting off these past two weeks. I'm having a lot of trouble posting with my new schedule, so I've had to drop some games from other sites. I think I might have to drop this one too. I just can't find the time to post like I used too. Sorry if this is a big inconvenience for you guys, but I don't want to hold you all back.
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is the werd
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@Hammerman @Roughdragon1 @ManoftheNorth @eemmtt @Renny @Rekaigan
"Just don't try to get yourself killed!" she shouted after the werebeast before complying.
The flames rose in a towering inferno. It was fortunate that she did. The fire consumed most of the bolts heading her way, Marianne's cry alerting her to the danger she couldn't see. If the flames hadn't been there she would have died. Then came the explosion.
Her ears rang. She used Brandr to help her find her feet again. The skaven swarmed and the dwarf line broke. Another hopeless situation. She was sick to death of hopeless situations. Her flames lashed out at the ratkin and Brandr's red-hot tip skewered the ones that got too close. In that she took stock and began to shout to her friends. She'd said fire was ambition right? It was time for her to try something ambitious.
"Grendrick, stay with the king."
She traced a flaming sigil on the ground.
"Nove, Gorrmar, help fill the gaps in the line."
Another.
"Sylvia, Fariha, take out their archers."
And another.
"Marianne, I think it's time for the mantis."
The final sigil in place, Ayse brought the but of her spear down on it. It shattered, sending the sigils swirling around her. Brandr approved. These new flames licked at the cloth covering her bite wound. Beneath the fabric the edges of the wound curled like flaming parchment before burning away, leaving fresh flesh and skin behind. Tendrils of flame snaked out to wash over her comrades and the dwarves, fallen or not. With a firm voice Ayse spoke aloud the spell she had writ.
"Heal!"
"Just don't try to get yourself killed!" she shouted after the werebeast before complying.
The flames rose in a towering inferno. It was fortunate that she did. The fire consumed most of the bolts heading her way, Marianne's cry alerting her to the danger she couldn't see. If the flames hadn't been there she would have died. Then came the explosion.
Her ears rang. She used Brandr to help her find her feet again. The skaven swarmed and the dwarf line broke. Another hopeless situation. She was sick to death of hopeless situations. Her flames lashed out at the ratkin and Brandr's red-hot tip skewered the ones that got too close. In that she took stock and began to shout to her friends. She'd said fire was ambition right? It was time for her to try something ambitious.
"Grendrick, stay with the king."
She traced a flaming sigil on the ground.
"Nove, Gorrmar, help fill the gaps in the line."
Another.
"Sylvia, Fariha, take out their archers."
And another.
"Marianne, I think it's time for the mantis."
The final sigil in place, Ayse brought the but of her spear down on it. It shattered, sending the sigils swirling around her. Brandr approved. These new flames licked at the cloth covering her bite wound. Beneath the fabric the edges of the wound curled like flaming parchment before burning away, leaving fresh flesh and skin behind. Tendrils of flame snaked out to wash over her comrades and the dwarves, fallen or not. With a firm voice Ayse spoke aloud the spell she had writ.
"Heal!"
"Yes, we did it. Thanks Marianne."
She sank to the ground as her staff crumbled away under her weight. Better it than her, but what was she to do now? All that remained was little better than a charred stick. Her fiance's gift had served her well, though she wished it served for longer.
She drank a mana potion and let the rush of liquid elation run through her for a moment. When it passed she brought her numb arm up to look at it. The gashes were puffy and swollen, a sure sign of infection, and would require care. She brought her fire to hand and let the flame filter into the wounds to lick at the foulness left behind by the skaven that bit her. She gritted her teeth to ignore the sting and retrieved her bandages to make a simple wrap.
Restored and patched up, Ayse turned her mind to the looting everyone else was wrapped up in. She did gather a little gold, which was fine, Grendrick's treatment of the dwarves appalled her. So soon after their loss too... The real prize came when pushed aside a skaven corpse to reveal a spear.
Nothing really made it stand out. Dwarven weapons were almost universally works of art, but as she hefted it and felt its weight in her hands she could also feel its warmth. Something of the fire that forged its metal head and hardened its leather bound shaft remained within. It wanted to be used again by hands more deserving than a rat. It had been a long time since Ayse read runic script. Her fingers easily found the notches though.
"Brandr."
---
Rushed and pushed along, Ayse obeyed when the king shouted his orders. Her spear lashed out, to skewer a ratkin pressed against the wall of bodies. It truly was a well made spear, but Ayse had other plans for it. Raising it aloft, she let the fire flow out from it to caress the defenders, devouring the filth from them.
It might have been the battle, but Ayse swore she could hear her spear laughing, goading her for more. The flames expanded now the scourge the skaven beyond. This, she felt it laugh, is how a dwarf makes a fire.
She sank to the ground as her staff crumbled away under her weight. Better it than her, but what was she to do now? All that remained was little better than a charred stick. Her fiance's gift had served her well, though she wished it served for longer.
She drank a mana potion and let the rush of liquid elation run through her for a moment. When it passed she brought her numb arm up to look at it. The gashes were puffy and swollen, a sure sign of infection, and would require care. She brought her fire to hand and let the flame filter into the wounds to lick at the foulness left behind by the skaven that bit her. She gritted her teeth to ignore the sting and retrieved her bandages to make a simple wrap.
Restored and patched up, Ayse turned her mind to the looting everyone else was wrapped up in. She did gather a little gold, which was fine, Grendrick's treatment of the dwarves appalled her. So soon after their loss too... The real prize came when pushed aside a skaven corpse to reveal a spear.
Nothing really made it stand out. Dwarven weapons were almost universally works of art, but as she hefted it and felt its weight in her hands she could also feel its warmth. Something of the fire that forged its metal head and hardened its leather bound shaft remained within. It wanted to be used again by hands more deserving than a rat. It had been a long time since Ayse read runic script. Her fingers easily found the notches though.
"Brandr."
---
Rushed and pushed along, Ayse obeyed when the king shouted his orders. Her spear lashed out, to skewer a ratkin pressed against the wall of bodies. It truly was a well made spear, but Ayse had other plans for it. Raising it aloft, she let the fire flow out from it to caress the defenders, devouring the filth from them.
It might have been the battle, but Ayse swore she could hear her spear laughing, goading her for more. The flames expanded now the scourge the skaven beyond. This, she felt it laugh, is how a dwarf makes a fire.
Ayse's hand wrapped around Marianne's with a vice grip. Her other hand gripped lower, steadying both herself and the staff. As their manas mingled, the flame at the end of the staff ceased its flickering and began to burn blue.
"Think about what a flame is Marianne. Others might tell you that a flame is a thing of chaos. That's just untrue. Fire lives, breathes, and dies just like we do. Fire is merely ambitious. It seeks to be more than it is. Let our combined fire feed on our ambition. The force that drives us to be more than we are. Sometimes that means giving of ourselves without holding anything back."
"The shaman's flame is a sickly thing. Feasting on its own corpse and his self-satisfaction. Let our flame be the tip of a spear to set against his shield. To harry it, to push it aside, and to stab at the heart of such a vile thing."
With their powers combined, the flame shot through the air once again to try and pierce the barrier.
@Hammerman
"Think about what a flame is Marianne. Others might tell you that a flame is a thing of chaos. That's just untrue. Fire lives, breathes, and dies just like we do. Fire is merely ambitious. It seeks to be more than it is. Let our combined fire feed on our ambition. The force that drives us to be more than we are. Sometimes that means giving of ourselves without holding anything back."
"The shaman's flame is a sickly thing. Feasting on its own corpse and his self-satisfaction. Let our flame be the tip of a spear to set against his shield. To harry it, to push it aside, and to stab at the heart of such a vile thing."
With their powers combined, the flame shot through the air once again to try and pierce the barrier.
@Hammerman
Ayse smelled the oily green flame before she saw it. She broke off her magical assault on the rat ogre and dove to the side as the stone she'd been standing on were reduced to a glowing, molten, slurry. Ignoring the bruises she'd picked up in the graceless dive, Ayse found her feet again and let her flames crash against the barrier. She had the sinking feeling that it might not be enough.
She was exhausted. Her magic was running low. The Shaman seemed unassailable behind his shield. Things seemed bleak. Things had to change.
She saw Marianne directing her bees against the rat ogre and a new idea began to bubble up. She'd said that her power had to do with influencing and empowering insects, but was that all? Could the noblewoman reinforce her instead? Ayse providing the spells while Marianne supported her in power. It certainly seemed like a sound idea.
"Marianne, can you grab hold of my staff? I have a plan."
She was exhausted. Her magic was running low. The Shaman seemed unassailable behind his shield. Things seemed bleak. Things had to change.
She saw Marianne directing her bees against the rat ogre and a new idea began to bubble up. She'd said that her power had to do with influencing and empowering insects, but was that all? Could the noblewoman reinforce her instead? Ayse providing the spells while Marianne supported her in power. It certainly seemed like a sound idea.
"Marianne, can you grab hold of my staff? I have a plan."
Ayse brought her staff up to deflect the oversized rodent's blow. She did succeed, but with the second skaven pressing her position she didn't have the time to go on the offensive. Once again she was in retreat with her team growing more distant.
She thought the distance was a smart idea. It would give her the time to help from afar. It was still just making her a target thanks to the holes in their defense. On her end her fire had been effective, but not effective enough, not in this situation. Another pair of attacks and another desperate deflection. She was going to die here if she didn't do something. So might Gormarr. She knew the skaven were trying to whittle him down with poisons rather than feeble blows.
Swinging her staff as hard as she could, she broke for the front lines. Towards the rat ogre and it's wizened master. She ran past Fariha and hoped the elf would pick off her pursuers. Cradling her staff in the crook of her wounded arm she brought a different sort of fire to bear. It burned, yes, but also ached. A healing flame. She hurled it at Gormarr. The flame lilted and curled in the air before spiraling into the orc's wounds to burn out the poisons and pestilence. It would hurt, surely it would hurt, however he would live once his rage subsided.
An idea occurred as she spent it. Rat orges were the product of foul magics, their bulk and bodies supported by the basest of skaven arts. What if she attacked those arts instead of the beast's flesh? Siph had said to attack low. What if it was more accurate to say that they were pulling out the tree by the roots? She went stock still and focused, trusting her companions to look after her.
A spider web of glowing fissures and cracks formed over the length of her staff. The tip flared with new flame. She'd never done anything like this before. She had no clue if it would work or if she could overcome the shaman's magic. She'd still try though. As the staff itself burst into flame she thrust its tip forward to release a gout of purifying flame to eat away at the sorceries that underpinned the beat's strength.
Through the pain, watching Nove's sword whistle through the air, she could only repeat one whispered word.
"Fall. Fall. Fall..."
She thought the distance was a smart idea. It would give her the time to help from afar. It was still just making her a target thanks to the holes in their defense. On her end her fire had been effective, but not effective enough, not in this situation. Another pair of attacks and another desperate deflection. She was going to die here if she didn't do something. So might Gormarr. She knew the skaven were trying to whittle him down with poisons rather than feeble blows.
Swinging her staff as hard as she could, she broke for the front lines. Towards the rat ogre and it's wizened master. She ran past Fariha and hoped the elf would pick off her pursuers. Cradling her staff in the crook of her wounded arm she brought a different sort of fire to bear. It burned, yes, but also ached. A healing flame. She hurled it at Gormarr. The flame lilted and curled in the air before spiraling into the orc's wounds to burn out the poisons and pestilence. It would hurt, surely it would hurt, however he would live once his rage subsided.
An idea occurred as she spent it. Rat orges were the product of foul magics, their bulk and bodies supported by the basest of skaven arts. What if she attacked those arts instead of the beast's flesh? Siph had said to attack low. What if it was more accurate to say that they were pulling out the tree by the roots? She went stock still and focused, trusting her companions to look after her.
A spider web of glowing fissures and cracks formed over the length of her staff. The tip flared with new flame. She'd never done anything like this before. She had no clue if it would work or if she could overcome the shaman's magic. She'd still try though. As the staff itself burst into flame she thrust its tip forward to release a gout of purifying flame to eat away at the sorceries that underpinned the beat's strength.
Through the pain, watching Nove's sword whistle through the air, she could only repeat one whispered word.
"Fall. Fall. Fall..."
Wow. This week did not turn out as expected. I'll try to post when I get home tonight.
The tip of Ayse staff crackled, sparked, and glowed. With the Skaven bearing down on them there was little reason to hold the flames in anymore. The tip of her staff popped in a whirl of ash and cinders as a bolt of fire raced out towards the din and the one unlucky target she'd picked out. It was hard to do much more.
If she tried a stream of flame then she'd probably end up roasting most of Marianne's bugs. Too aggressive with her bolts? She might catch any one of their fighters with magic intended for another. Sylvia's near invisibility was just an excuse for friendly fire. She wanted to help the dwarves, but without a plan and without a way to show they weren't the enemy she was starting to regret it. Though, as she sent a another bolt out, she'd have more regrets in a moment.
One Skaven slipped through and drew close. Skaven may have been sloppy and craven, but they were also fantastic opportunity hunters. A distracted target like Ayse might as well put on a light-show set out signs. Racing towards her, with a hissing, gurgling, cry it clamped down on her arm with rotten teeth. The force of the blow and the shock of pain sent both tumbling to the ground. Still hanging on with its mouth the beastfolk fished out a dagger and prepared to deal a more fatal blow.
Then the air around the both of them exploded. The Skaven backpedaled wildly, its face replaced by the blackened bone of its skull, over and off the side of the bridge. Ayse struggled up, groaning, as blood slipped from the gnawed flesh of her arm. It was clear that she couldn't be as careful anymore. With the pain also fueling her flame she lashed out again, and again, and again...
If she tried a stream of flame then she'd probably end up roasting most of Marianne's bugs. Too aggressive with her bolts? She might catch any one of their fighters with magic intended for another. Sylvia's near invisibility was just an excuse for friendly fire. She wanted to help the dwarves, but without a plan and without a way to show they weren't the enemy she was starting to regret it. Though, as she sent a another bolt out, she'd have more regrets in a moment.
One Skaven slipped through and drew close. Skaven may have been sloppy and craven, but they were also fantastic opportunity hunters. A distracted target like Ayse might as well put on a light-show set out signs. Racing towards her, with a hissing, gurgling, cry it clamped down on her arm with rotten teeth. The force of the blow and the shock of pain sent both tumbling to the ground. Still hanging on with its mouth the beastfolk fished out a dagger and prepared to deal a more fatal blow.
Then the air around the both of them exploded. The Skaven backpedaled wildly, its face replaced by the blackened bone of its skull, over and off the side of the bridge. Ayse struggled up, groaning, as blood slipped from the gnawed flesh of her arm. It was clear that she couldn't be as careful anymore. With the pain also fueling her flame she lashed out again, and again, and again...
"A dark hallway or tunnel might contain more surprises than you would like."
Those words echoed at her as she blew out the last candle in her home. Here in the darkness the house felt empty and she felt alone. After the meeting she'd done her shopping for supplies, joined her soul to a crystal, and picked up her travel pack. Some others might've used armor or shields, but not her. Her staff and companions would have to do as her bulwark, anything more would let the fire slip from her grasp. Now there was just the act of showing up and that was as anticlimactic as anything else. While the others chatted, she simply gazed up at the imposing tower and ran her thumb over the case of her compass anxiously.
The trek inside was not much better on the nerves. Siph exuded presence and brought eyes to them. Ayse was used to being overlooked. Nobody paid her much attention when she went about her work healing travelers. She couldn't say that all of it was welcome, but at least there was a pleasant thrill in the story she'd be able to tell when she got back. She gave the most honest and respectful of bows to Felix before leaping...
...into a battlefield apparently.
The dead bodies, the stench in the air, beast men feasting on the dead, it reeked of days long past in a sewer. One positive change from that situation was that she no longer played the role of a child. Seeing the beleaguered defenders, she knew which path she wished to take, although she held the flame in so as not to give their group away just yet.
"We should help them," were the only words that came to mind and that she felt needed to be said.
Those words echoed at her as she blew out the last candle in her home. Here in the darkness the house felt empty and she felt alone. After the meeting she'd done her shopping for supplies, joined her soul to a crystal, and picked up her travel pack. Some others might've used armor or shields, but not her. Her staff and companions would have to do as her bulwark, anything more would let the fire slip from her grasp. Now there was just the act of showing up and that was as anticlimactic as anything else. While the others chatted, she simply gazed up at the imposing tower and ran her thumb over the case of her compass anxiously.
The trek inside was not much better on the nerves. Siph exuded presence and brought eyes to them. Ayse was used to being overlooked. Nobody paid her much attention when she went about her work healing travelers. She couldn't say that all of it was welcome, but at least there was a pleasant thrill in the story she'd be able to tell when she got back. She gave the most honest and respectful of bows to Felix before leaping...
...into a battlefield apparently.
The dead bodies, the stench in the air, beast men feasting on the dead, it reeked of days long past in a sewer. One positive change from that situation was that she no longer played the role of a child. Seeing the beleaguered defenders, she knew which path she wished to take, although she held the flame in so as not to give their group away just yet.
"We should help them," were the only words that came to mind and that she felt needed to be said.
It was official, she did not like Grendrcik. She frowned as he went on and on about his disinterest in the rest of them. History was one of the things that gave people something to strive for in the face of adversity. The way he said it, she didn't feel she could trust him not to just abandon the rest of them if his mood soured. Failed in her hunt? He'd also failed to put anything but doubt in Ayse's mind.
Siph... Siph on the other hand... She immediately liked him. Even the grouchy wolf liked him, and he didn't seem to like anybody. The way he talked to Nove like a person and his humble bow to Marianne. They were the signs of a leader in his own right and just plain a good person. She was thrilled to have him along.
Though she did wish he hadn't entered like an avalanche, as her slightly burned hand could attest. Summoning flame in a panic wasn't good for anyone. It was... something to work on. She'd apply some balm to it later. If they were heading into the rifts soon she wanted to conserve her mana.
"Sir Siph," she wasn't sure what the actual formality for this situation was and ended up on a somewhat sheepish wave, "Noquin has told me a lot about you. I'm looking forward to seeing if all the stories were true. I can say that you've live up so far. Have you ever been to the rift we're going to? Do you have any tips or suggestions outside of the obvious?"
Siph... Siph on the other hand... She immediately liked him. Even the grouchy wolf liked him, and he didn't seem to like anybody. The way he talked to Nove like a person and his humble bow to Marianne. They were the signs of a leader in his own right and just plain a good person. She was thrilled to have him along.
Though she did wish he hadn't entered like an avalanche, as her slightly burned hand could attest. Summoning flame in a panic wasn't good for anyone. It was... something to work on. She'd apply some balm to it later. If they were heading into the rifts soon she wanted to conserve her mana.
"Sir Siph," she wasn't sure what the actual formality for this situation was and ended up on a somewhat sheepish wave, "Noquin has told me a lot about you. I'm looking forward to seeing if all the stories were true. I can say that you've live up so far. Have you ever been to the rift we're going to? Do you have any tips or suggestions outside of the obvious?"
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