DELETED32084

Rise of Heroes

The small party hurried through the passage, the flickering light of Jurgens torch casting its feeble light on the tunnel floor while Roderick's own torch served only to highlight Brandt's bloodied face and very little of the tunnel behind. Jurgan had been right, there had been no one in this tunnel for a very long time. Twice they came upon partial caveins that had to be navigated by crawling through the dirt.

There were no sounds of pursuit however. Roderick had pushed the door closed after they went through and then locked it behind them. He doubted it would slow any pursuers for long, but at the moment he doubted the enemy even knew where to begin the pursuit. He admired Brandt who had maintained a stoic expression as they went. The mans arm must have been on fire with pain now that he had dragged his shield onto it. Roderick for his part carried his hammer and the torch, having secured the keys by slinging the belt from his robe across one shoulder. This had allowed his robe to billow freely and he was certain expose poor Brandt to a free show when clambering over the caveins. If it had been so, the smith politely never complained.

Plant roots clutched at their hair as they hurried through the darkness and the ever present smell of earth was welcome. The tunnel was mercifully dry, whoever had done it must have known their trade. Roderick wondered if it might have been Dwarves, all of the tools marks he could see in the walls were very precise. Heavily tarred wood beams had been used to brace the ceiling every five paces and the smell of burning occasionally wafted through the air as the flame of a torch came close enough.

They paused once in their journey when they reached a long room, small beds down either side confirmed that the workers must have been Dwarves. Lord Waldo had thought to bring a wineskin which he took a deep swig from before offering some to both Priska and Maria. Priska drank greedily. Maria refused. She did take time to borrow a small knife from Brandt which she used to cut the bottom off her dress, and then slit it up the front to just above the knee so she could better move in it. Roderick had stared hard at the ground when he saw the flash of her legs, swallowing as he reminded himself that he was a Priest of Sigmar.

Brandt had seen his gaze and winked at him despite their situation and Roderick had smiled involuntarily. The Book of Sigmar was across his knee and the heavy warhammer was leaning against the wall next to him. As he looked at the ugly weapon he noticed that the serrated head, where he had smashed a mans head in, was missing some of its silver. A shame. To damage a relic of the Church, even one as pitiful as this, was a sign of the age they lived in.

"Onward!" Lord Waldo had stood and pointed grandly down the tunnel as if he were leading some great campaign and not a disgraceful flight for safety after abandoning his home. Priska had at once leapt up to walk behind him, curtly continuing to ignore Maria who was sitting on the tunnel floor with her knees drawn up to her chest.

"M'lady." Roderick had stood and offered her a hand. She blinked up at him, the smokey light of the torch harshly illuminating her features. Roderick thought it made her look even more beautiful.

She didn't hesitate more than a moment, reaching up a hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. "Thank you, priest."

He nodded and then paused as she held out a hand unmarked by pox or the brutal rigours of their age.

"I could carry the torch, if you would prefer. I think that hammer might need two hands to swing." She smiled to show she meant no insult and he grinned back, handing her the foul smelling thing at once.

Jurgen, for all of his dull wit, had waited for them to rise, and now turned to plunge into the darkness once again. He was followed by Lord Waldo, who grandly insisted that Priska go before him. He tried the same with Maria but she shook her head, planting herself between Roderick and Brandt, who still kept a vigilant watch on the darkness behind them.

For the better part of an hour the little band of fugitives hurried through the dark, stumbling occasionally in places where the ground had shifted, clambering over smaller caveins, and twice pausing to listen for pursuit and hearing nothing. At length, and at last, they came upon another iron bound door. Lord Waldo snapped his fingers at Roderick who had to unsling his belt, fumble with the knot and then pass the key ring forward. Roderick rebelted his robe as Lord Waldo selected a key.

Like the tunnel, the door was well made, and the lock turned at once when the key was slid home. Jurgen stubbed his own torch out in the dirt and then glanced at Maria who did the same, plunging them all into instant darkness. Maria instinctevely placed a hand on Brandts shoulder.

Jurgen pushed gently at the door and a welcome rush of fresh air blew into the tunnel. A sliver of daylight blinded them an instant and Jurgan waited for their eyes to adjust before pushing the door open further, his sword ready for a lunge. They were greeted by the sight of the fast moving Talabec River, its banks lined with bright green vegetation and patches of water lilies. Closer to the bank the water foamed white as it rolled over rocks just below the surface. Small fishing boats plied the surface of the river.

The cry of birds could be heard everywhere and a butterfly flitted quickly past the door where it was set back beneath an overhang. It wasn't until they were into the clear afternoon air that Roderick observed the door had been painted to look like the rock face, and had even been carefully fitted with real stone chunks to make all the more real. It looked invisible if you didn't know where to look. Roderick found himself wondering if he might get to meet a Dwarf one day, maybe visit one of their Holds. He imagined that something as simple as this door would pale in comparison to their own homes.

For a long few minutes they stayed in the shade of the overhang until Jurgen at last stepped fully into the sunlight and glanced up above, then into the trees around. "All clear m'lord."

Roderick let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and then grinned at Brandt, then Maria. It seemed that no enemy had found this exit quite yet. They were safe for the moment.

SANGUINE EMPIRE (Dark Fantasy, Samurai/Wuxia setting)

It lives! I will read when home and get back to you!

The Vampire princes

"Make way!" Solomon was yelling at the crowd as he forced his horse through the thick press of folk lining the roadway leading to the capitals main gate. One half of the gate was open, guarded by a squad of spearmen. Behind them a massive pillar or black smoke rose skyward and a distinct glow could be seen over the city walls. The firedust must have caused more damage than expected.

"Move damn you!" He snarled at a stubborn tinker, lashing out with his foot as he passed, sending the man crashing into the ditch. Some folk shouted at him but they were used to being bullied at by men with weapons and his sword was enough to quiet most of them.

The commotion he caused was spreading and folk began to hurriedly move aside so that he could ride freely down the long line. He kept glancing left and right, looking for Prince Edward. He had expected to find the Vampire along the road somewhere but no such luck. Perhaps he had died of his wounds, he could only hope.

"I have news!" He was shouting again, waving frantically at the spearmen who stared at him in surprise. They were nervous and he could sense their anxiety. They had been committed to a quiet life of guarding brow beaten peasants, living slightly better than everyone else so that a woman might find them worth humping. It wasn't much, but it was better than slaving in the muck as a farmer. Now that peace had been shattered by the slaughter of the Royal family, including an attack within the city itself. Heads would roll for the failure to protect the city, it was simply a matter of whose head.

"I bring news of Prince Edward! I must see the King!" Solomon drew his horse up sharply, narrowly avoiding the spears that had been leveled at him. "He was wounded by vampire hunters and is lying near death."

The spearmen glanced at each other and then at their sergeant. The man looked worried. He had been told that no one without an appointment was to be permitted into the city but surely that did not apply to someone with news of the missing prince. He looked around again, as if desperate to find someone who out ranked him,and Solomon leapt at the weakness.

"Sergeant, the Prince is dying! I must see his father at once!"

That was enough for the sergeant and he nodded to his men who raised their spears and waved Solomon into the city. He kicked back his heels and urged his horse beneath the huge gateway. He could smell bubbling oil and glanced up briefly to see faces peering down at him through the murder holes. The city would be a beast to take.

His cry was like a magic talisman and soldiers waved him onward toward the citadel. His horses hooves clattered loudly on the drawbridge, the black water beneath to vibrating away in small ripples. He could see tips of wooden stakes just below the surface and the reflection of large ballistas nested atop the gatehouse towers. Ulrek would have his work cut out for him.

He swung down from the saddle in the inner courtyard as two men hurried toward him.

"Your swo..." The first man began to speak but stopped as Solomon tossed him the blade Prince Edward had left behind when he fled the hut.

"The Princes sword, you fool, I need to speak with his father now. He is wounded and the girl is tending to him!" Solomon snarled as he pushed past the two, heading for the double door guarded by yet more spearmen.

The two men hurried after him, one cursing under his breath, the other glancing skyward as if expecting something to come tumbling down upon them. The interior of the citadel was dark, darker even than the shaded day beyond.

"Which way to the King?" Solomon snapped at his escorts. His heart was thundering in his chest. His bluff was enormous and if either man thought quickly enough to stop and question him, he would have to fight his way out. Here again though, the confusion and fear that permeated the city worked to his advantage. No one wanted to be responsible for the Prince dying. "Hurry!"

"This way." The first man plucked at Solomon's sleeve and led him down a long passage toward the rear of the keep. The walls were barren stone, lit with the odd flickering torch, just enough for a human to navigate without tripping over the thin carpets that muffled their boots.

"Here." The man pushed open a large set of doors and they stepped into an audience chamber. It was a least three stories high and great banners embroidered with images of Zachaeus and his family hung from balconies around the upper floor. A huge narrow throne, set with red jewels and gold, gleamed and winked in the light of a dozen torches. To one side, seated on low wooden benches, were terrified young women in skimpy dress, while all around the walls stood armoured pikemen.

"Your majesty!" The first man took a knee. "This man brings news of your son, Prince Edward."

A figure standing nearby, staring up at a huge tapestry that showed a vampire tearing a man in half, turned. He looked into Solomons eyes and frowned. The confusion was fleeting. Reazaliation flashed into the blood shot eyes and a low growl escaped his throat.

"Solomon Kane." The words were said quietly but the effect they had on those in the hall was instantaneous. The girls screamed. The armoured sentinels looked shocked and then dropped their pikes low and began to advance on Solomon. The two men who had come with him looked stunned, lunged for Solomon, and died.

The glittering sword spun once and two heads bounced across the floor, leaving trails of blood on the otherwise flawless black marble. The remainder of the guards checked themselves for an instant. A pair of heavy thuds indicated that the bodies too had hit the floor.

"Solomon Kane." King Zachaeus said again. "Son of God. Welcome to my home."

The guardsmen had stopped now, staring from the King to the Vampire Hunter. Solomon was as famous as Zachaeus was infamous. There was not a man in that room who did not realize that their lives were about to change forever.

"My men cannot decide if they should welcome you, or fight you." Zachaeus commented as he strolled toward his throne. That sent a shudder through the armoured ranks. "I can peer into their minds. But not into yours. That is how I know your name."

He had reached the throne and as he did he causally picked up a six foot spear, Solomon recognized Bloodline at once, and turned to face the Vampire Hunter. "You killed my sons."

"And your daughters." Solomon nodded. The sword was back in his sheath and a hand rested at his lower back where he had palmed an item from the specially made pouch he had carried so carefully until this moment.

"There will be more. But for you, Solomon Kane, there will be nothing!" In an instant Zachaeus launched himself from the dias, his face contorting as huge fangs shot forth and great wings burst from his back. The guardsmen gave shouts of terror and dropped to the floor. Solomon alone did not. Instead he took the item he had been holding behind his back and with one swift movement he hurled it into the floor at his feet.

"Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem!"

The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch burst without hesitation upon the marbled floor. In an instant the blackened interior of the keep shone brighter than the sun itself, the light of Heaven. Zachaeus gave one horrible scream as he burst into flames, his body turned into nothing but ash before it hit the floor. Even Bloodline, the great evil spear that Zachaeus had used to drain the blood of so many innocents, was incinerated. There was no trace of the King.

For those mortals in the room, they would never see again. For to look upon the glory of God was to be blinded for eternity. The guardsmen and slave girls did not weep however, for in that moment they had seen the greatness of God and the promise of his kingdom in heaven. For the rest of their days they would have that image to remember and when they came before God and he judged them he would be kind for they would spread his word about the land.

Solomon Kane was on his knees. His clothes were gone, and in their place he wore white chainmail, cloak, boots, and from his back a great pair of white wings now cast their light upon the milky white eyes of the mortals who had witnessed his miracle.

"My son." The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "Your task is not yet done."

Solomon raised his face toward the ceiling and could see, beyond the vestiges of pure white cloud, the glimmer of great golden gates. Tears were coursing down his cheeks. He had been forgiven. He would return home.

"There is still great evil in this land. You are my sword. Go forth and conquer."

"I will... Father..." He whispered the words and bowed his head.

In an instant the room was plunged back into darkness. Solomon was once again in his broad hat and long jacket. His leather boots sounded loud on the floor as he stood and glanced around at the guardsmen and slave girls, all of whom were kneeling in prayer, their faces skyward, hands clasped, smiles of pure joy on their faces.

The sound of shouts and clatter of steel reached Solomon from down the passage. He had to leave and quickly. To kill men who served evil because they had no other choice was not God's will. He glanced to his right and saw a flight of stairs climbing up and way through the wall. He turned and hurried toward them. He would find Edward, and then he would kill him.

The Vampire princes

Rumors of my death are highly exaggerated

@gorgenmast

We are all very happy to have you back. I could hear hearts breaking all over the Kingdom at the thought of losing Ulrek.

The Vampire princes

I have confirmed that @gorgenmast is in fact still alive and intends to post. I will post shortly afterwards.

Rise of Heroes

Maria Fosdick stood at the rear of Lord Waldos chambers watching the crowd of civilians, a few crossbowmen, and the young lordling himself stare out at the chaos beyond. The battle was over. She could feel the tempo shift when the gate collapsed and knew that it was only a matter of time. She heard rather than saw the death of the single Greatswordsman, his compatriot loyally standing next to Lord Waldo as his partner died. A great defender indeed.

Her dress was clammy and wasd chaffing against her body so that she pulled irritably at it. She had found a long red cloak on her journey up into the noble bedchambers. The irony of her coming here willingly after the number of times Lord Waldo had tried ordering her here so that he might make a conquest of her was not lost.

“Waldo!” called out Lord Gerard, the insult of not using the boys proper rank echoed in the man's tone. “Get out here, Waldo! It's time for you to surrender, my boy!” The voice boomed up from the courtyard and she saw the little lordlings face turn red.

"Boy," He spluttered. "I am lord of Lorch! And he calls me a boy!"

Maria privately thought that she had rarely seen a young man look more like a boy. He was short, skinny, and his face was pockmarked with acne and measle scars. Years of inbreeding throughout the noble family had left him with one eye that tended to wander on its own and his black hair was already whispy. He was hardly a man to inspire confidence in anyone. Yes, boy was an accurate description.

At that moment the bedchamber door was thrust open and two men staggered into the room. One was Brandt, the smithy's apprentice, and she smiled involuntarily at him. He was a handsome enough lad, funny, kind, and always ready with a quick wit when she had visited his forge in the winter. He was wounded, a strip of white cloth already turning red about his arm, a heavy hammer clasped in one hand. The second man was the priest, though it took he a moment to recognize him. His long clean monks robe was torn, bloodied, and covered in mud. The Book of Sigmar was likewise covered in blood. He too carried a heavy hammer and she could see that the silver had been badly disfigured near the head. It seemed the priest had learnt to fight after all.

"I will not surrender, boy," Waldo chuckled to himself at the joke. No one else shared his mirth. "Come and get me!" He was yelling out the window and turned to see the two bloodied men, taking them in an instant, though clearly not recognizing either of them. "Excellent! More warriors. Come, follow me."

Lord Waldo scutteled to nearby table where he took up a sword and belted it to his waist. He was at least wearing a suit of fine chainmail with a plate chest piece.

"Jurgen," The Greatswordsman saluted. "Come along, bring what soldiers we have, we will use the tunnel to escape and find my uncle to avenge this defeat. You two, with me." He hurried out of the room on his chicken legs, waving at the new newly arrived men.

Maria felt an instant flash of fear. She had no doubt that the attackers would recognize her from the battle and she doubted they would be terribly kind in their victory. A vision of being thrust onto her back and rutted by a dozen soldiers filled her mind. She hurried after the small group, quickly catching up to the priest who was limping at the rear of the group.

"You look terrible, Father." She said, trying to crack a small smile but her face was locked in a grimace of fear. He did chuckle however and nodded slightly.

"I am indeed terrible m'lady. I may not be cut out for soldiering afterall. My balls may not be as heavy as I had hoped."

The reminder of her cruel words brought a blush to Maria's face and she stammered an apology that he waved off.

"No need. You were not wrong. I have never been a warrior but it seems I may have no choice now."

She gave a small nod in ascent as they continued into the depths of the keep, passing the main door that was already shuddering under the impact of the attackers axes.

The Vampire princes

This RP isn't over until the fat lady sings

@gorgenmast

This RP isn’t over until all you blood suckers be dead! To war!

The Vampire princes

Breath that sounded like a child's rattle echoed up through his throat as he gasped for air, fingers feebly clawing at the cross around his neck. The ground was frozen and wet beneath him and he could feel a warm trickle coming from the corner of his mouth. Pain was everywhere, grasping and stabbing at his chest like a thousand tiny knives. He was dying.

"Lord," He choked out the word and blood misted the air as his breathing became more desperate.

"Look upon me with eyes of mercy," A painful cough racked his body and he heard a sob escape his lips.

"May your healing hand rest upon me," The moon had broken clear of the cloud cover now and a silver light poured down upon him. The destroyed hut leered like some squatting beast above him and he could hear the soft whicker of his horse nearby. He clutched at his sword pommel. If he were to die, he would die with a weapon in his hand.

"May your lifegiving powers flow into the depths of my soul," His breathing was desperately shallow now and it hurt to swallow, to blink, even to think. The end was coming and he felt a rage begin to flicker in the back of his mind. He couldn't die here. He had work to do. Edward, Ulrek, their father... They had to die.

"Restore your servant to health and strength for service in your Kingdom..," His voice was fading even in his own ears, an empty echoing sound within his own mind. Mentally he grasped desperately at anything he could focus on, fixating at last on the moon which seemed to grow ever larger to cloud his vision.

"Amen." He mouthed the final word and felt his body go limp. In an abstract way he felt as though he was floating. At least if he were to die God had given him a final moon, he would miss the moon.

"You will not die today, Solomon Kane." A voice thundered through his head and he felt a sudden surge of hope. "Not today, for you are the right hand of God."

At that moment there was a dazzling burst of light and a being of light materialized in front of him. There were no features visible but a pair of huge wings cast a brilliant light, bathing the entire area in an astounding glow. It appeared to be wearing a tattered white robe that swirled around it despite a decided lack of wind.

"Rise, son of God." A long white hand was extended toward Solomon and with a great effort he reached out his hand to touch the perfect fingers. A shock ran through him and he felt his strength returning. Still holding the outstretched hand he struggled to his knees and bowed his head before the figure.

"Our father said to give you this." The figure now held out a longsword of brilliant white that forced Solomon to shade his eyes as he let go of the long fingers and took the blade. It faded at once to grey steel but he saw a ripple of gold run down the blade. "Use it wisely Solomon and perhaps he will allow you to return home."

Then the being was gone and naught remained but the moonlight and the sword clutched in Solomons hands as he knelt on the cold hard ground. He took a tentative breath, expecting a stab of pain but nothing came. He gingerly climbed to his feet, waiting for the agony to tear at him anew but it did not come. He spat. His saliva was clean and clear. He began to laugh.

He laughed until his sides hurt and tears pricked the corner of his eyes, the sound echoing around the small village that might have been his tomb. Then he thrust the sword into the air and screamed a challenge into the night.

"I liiiiiiiiive!" The sword flashed in the moonlight as he flourished it before driving it home into his scabbard.

He stooped back into the hut and took up his hat and bag. In a few short strides he had found his horse and mounted in a single bound. He yanked the beasts head around and rode for the capital.

Gods will would be done, and Solomon his willing instrument.

The Vampire princes

We have no king though. :(

@Vampiretwilight

I’ll kill him off and Edward can fight Ulrek for King.

Rise of Heroes

"Ladders!" The shout came from the walltop and Roderick jerked his head around to look at the parapet, expecting Talabecmen to come pouring over the crenellations. His heart had begun pounding and he could feel a heavy knot in the middle of his chest as he ran toward the battlements, the silver hammer in one hand.

He went quickly up the stairs, his free hand clutching his robes high so he did not trip on them as he had a short time ago. He paused and pressed his body to the wall when the hand gunners fired, not realizing it was the Hochland men until he saw the smoke drifting away and their feverish movements as they reloaded. He took the last few steps and arrived on the fighting platform just as the first Talabecmen ladders slammed into the stone.

"Get out of the way priest!" Snarled a man with a long spear as he shouldered Roderick aside to drive his blade into the face of an enemy swordsman who had appeared between the crenelations, lips drawn back in a snarl beneath his huge moustache. The spear grazed his cheek and blood misted the air, but it was enough to send the man hurtling into space. He vanished from sight with a scream.

The spearman gave his own horrible scream as a crossbow bolt, fired from the ditch beyond the wall, slammed into his forehead, ripping his helmet off to leave a savage red gouge that instantly welled with blood, blinding the man. Roderick watched in horror as the next man up the ladder drove his sword into the spearmans mouth. Without thinking he took a step forward and slammed the silver hammer down with all his strength on the attackers helmet. There was a heavy "bonk" sound as the helmet caved in and the skull beneath it was crushed into pieces. He had killed a man. He turned and vomited.

He was still on his knees, dry retching when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Brandt's voice was kind, and he was speaking perhaps more loudly than he had wished to mask the fear in his eyes.

"Good job Brother. You've done yourself proud." The smithy helped the priest stand and Brandt grinned at Roderick who glanced down to see that the front of his robes, and the holy book, were smeared with vomit. "Come on, the Sergeant wants us off the wall."

Brandt gave Roderick one last heavy backslap that almost sent him over the edge and into the mud again before jogging after the Sergeant. Roderick glanced about the walltop as the hand gunners unleashed a ragged volley. Bodies of both sides lay crumpled in heaps along the wall, looks of surprise, fear, and pain, stamped on the faces of so many young men. What a waste.

A short sword had fallen nearby and Roderick picked up, swiftly sawing the lower hem of his robe off so that he might run without issue. He has just tossed down the muddied piece of cloth when he heard Brandt's voice from below. A bellow that turned every head.

“The gate! Sergeant Hoefler, the gate!”

A horrendous screech of protesting metal and the sound of cascading stone filled the space even as the gatehouse shifted and seemed to buckle slightly as the portcullis was ripped from its mounting. Roderick saw the Sergeant leading a rush of defenders to the gate and he glanced around. The stairs were a ways away. So he jumped, aiming for the same mud patch he had hit before.

As he struck the ground he felt pain shoot through his left ankle and he pitched forward, managing to save himself from falling into the mud, the the book of sigmar, one its loose chain, smacked him across the face and his nose began to bleed. He would have laughed if he wasn't so damn scared and the chuckle he had felt at the ridiculousness of his situation was replaced by a sob of fear.

Sergeant Hoefler and his men reached the gate in a rush, trying to form a hurried shield wall. They never stood a chance as two Greatswords, like the legends they were, appeared through the dust and took their heavy weapons to the gathered militia. Men fell screaming into the mud, or were trod underfoot as they were knocked down in the panic. Talabec militia followed, along with crossbowmen and behind them, dark shapes looming in the archway, Roderick could see horsemen.

"Brandt! Tell his lordship the gate is lost, get him to safety!" Hoefler was screaming at the smithys apprentice even as he hefted his sword and shield. There was no one else to call upon. The only two men not engaged in the fight at the gate were Brandt and Roderick. The two looked at each other and then turned as one and ran for the keep. Behind them they could hear the shout of the Talabec commander.

"Throw down your weapons and you will be spared! Surrender!"

The last sight Roderick had as he limped up the steps to the keep was that of Hoefler sinking into the mud, a long pike in his chest, and the rest of his men throwing down their weapons and holding their hands wide in surrender.