ReusableSword

I, the Demon King, Will Summon My Own Damned Heroes!

this looks fun

From the weakest goblin to the Strongest god

wooo long post is long lol. I should mention getting out and about in the outdoors is my muse and where I get most of my inspiration. so long posts are common after I have done something like that.

From the weakest goblin to the Strongest god

Goblin Gird

Running for the church >>>> preparing for the fight ahead /// Day 4 // Late Afternoon > Evening

Again his instincts were blaring at him. Not only to run but a strong feeling of dread to run the other way and away from the stone place. Something was there. He could feel it. It wasn’t something he felt in his gut like he would feel with his instincts. This time he felt it in his chest. A strange cold beckoning that called out for him to go closer. As they ran through the trees, with the sun setting at their backs. The orange glow of dusk filling the sky and the forest slowly dimming to black and Grey.

Gird struggled at times to find the right path. Branches and bushes snagged and grabbed at him leaving small cuts and scratches in their wake. Whenever he would stumble he would pick himself up and keep going glancing back now and then to make sure the others were keeping up with him. Until they finally broke from the tree line and headed for the main door. A howl caught him off guard when they got to the door.

The goblin looked around the corner towards the grave yard and could see what was howling. The strange creatures crawled out from the graves. Bony figures held together by mere tendons, no skin or organs just a glaring red stare from the black eye sockets. These skeletons wore no armor and only held what appeared to be old and rusty weapons of some sort. They didn’t seem entirely mindless but did seem to want to wander the area with no real hurry to their movements.

Gird could hear Luz as she tries to open the door but it seemed stuck in some way. Gird kept a watchful eye on these creatures. Although breathing heavily, he was ready to turn and get the others moving if they got spotted. Movement from inside the stone place filled the eerie silence as someone beckoned the three of them inside. The goblin would be sure to be the last of the three to go inside.

Once inside, Gird still spoke at a low whisper being careful of the imminent danger that lurked outside. “We got food for all of you” he spoke. There wasn’t a lot of light in this place, but he would manage. Setting the carcass of the rabbit on the wooden chairs near the back of the church he began to examine what he could see. He could tell the others had prepared for what he could only assume was a fight. “So what’s your plan…” The goblin trailed off as his eyes slowly settled on a small statue.

The small black statue emanated a dark energy that one could nearly see. The dark silhouette of a woman sitting atop a throne of skulls and bones. This image of the woman seemed to stare out with a wicked smile and a glare of superiority. He knew her name but did he dare speak it? “Duvelna” he whispered while Gina began her prayer. Slowly he could feel the room grow dark around him, everything else slowly faded away as he stared at the statue. Even Gina’s voice slowly drifted away until there was nothing but him and the Statue in the same darkness he recalled from his birth. The goblin was completely focused and concentrated on the statue now.

Fear. A very real Fear permeated his very being. Nothing would get through to him, no sound or touch. The goblin was thinking, wondering if he made the right choice. He began to speak, he began to prey. “Duvelna, Goddess of Death, the night, and Fear. Queen of the underworld and gatherer of the lost souls. Hear my prayer.” A pause as he pulled the sharp stone from its place and placed it on top of his left arm. Slowly and deliberately Gird cut into his arm until he began to bleed.

Putting the stone back at his side he gripped the cut with his right hand and grimaced. Holding out his hand toward the statue letting a few drops of blood drip over the statue then placing his open hand over the center of his chest he speaks again. “This one knows he is not worthy of your time, this one simply wants to give you many gifts, this one will seek out your challenges, and this one will make you smile.”

Then suddenly everything came back to him, and he was there again in the stone place. Everyone was still here, and he had come to a near instant conclusion. The skeletons are a challenge, a challenge to prove your worth. Duvelna doesn’t need more followers, she needs worthy ones. At that moment Gird made a promise to himself before his goddess and the others. “I will be mighty, I will be worthy. For my Goddess and for all of you. I will protect you.” he spoke aloud as blood dripped from his hand and his bloody scarlet red hand print across his chest. He turned to face the door and whatever danger might loom on the other side.

@demonspade64
@Jangel13
@Guy0fV4lor
@Duthguy
@Wildman13
@Darked13

Gird's Character Stats

EXP: 20

Inventory: A sharp stone, Alpha rabbit pelt,

Clothing: Simple Loin cloth, vine chest wrap, vine rabbit pelt hand wraps,

Weapons: Bite, decent wooden spear, Alpha rabbit Horn

Acquired Skills: Beast Tamer, Sharp Bite, Knowledge of the 3, Unarmed Combat: beginner, Rookie camouflage, bloody strike,

Titles:

Blessings:

Current Injuries: Multiple small cuts and scratches, bruising to right rib cage (sore and discolored skin), Cut on left arm,

Curses:

From the weakest goblin to the Strongest god

@Jangel13 Yeah pretty much, 38 acre field with unlimited respawns.

From the weakest goblin to the Strongest god

I have returned. Broken, bruised, and exhausted, but otherwise victorious. this years paintball super game had 1700 players on the field on Saturdays big game. 200 more than last year. you can expect a reply sometime tonight... hopefully.

@demonspade64
@Jangel13

The Endeavour Six (Open, read first OOC post and I'll brief you if you're interested)

that took a little while longer than I thought

The Endeavour Six (Open, read first OOC post and I'll brief you if you're interested)

Hazy darkness and a splitting head ache. Romans radio crackled to life but everything in it was garbled and muted. A dull ringing permeated his hearing for more than a few seconds. His personal self-contained breathing apparatus kicked in once his breathing was hampered by the shock foam. His mask slowly came to life with night vision but all he could still see was the foam. However through the ringing he could hear subtle gunshots in the distance and muffled voices and coughs from outside.

As if suddenly remembering where he was Troll quickly performed a self-check by flexing and moving his muscles. Nothing seemed broken or damaged, more than likely thanks to the plasteel in his bones. However, the Russian could definitely feel some slight internal bleeding somewhere in his abdomen. He couldn’t hear anything from his fearless driver and instead focused on freeing himself from the seat belt and getting ready to strike.

Roman knew he hadn’t been out for too long and that the smoke and dust was more than likely still there. With a nudge of his chin he flicked his vision to infrared and worked enough room in the foam to grab his heavy blades. Sharp, heavy, and well taken care of. The man was very proficient in their use. When he was training in mixed martial arts, he was told to learn how to use a melee weapon. Knives were out of the question as they would all be trained in their use. So Roman opted for swords and machetes and with time proved to be deadly with them.

He was trying his best not to crack the foam on the outside, he had no idea how many enemies where outside, what their training was like, or what equipment they had. Positioning himself in his hollowed out little hole in the foam Roman broke through the foam and out into the world. The smoke and dust were still abundant in the area. However, the enemy that had gotten out of their vehicle to attack them seemed to be quite surprised at the man dual wielding large blades, jumping out at them. Cutting the men down with ease and brutality Roman was quick to roll through the concealment and continue his onslaught of blood and gore. If one could see under his mask, they would see a smile.

The heavy blades cut and tore through flesh, muscle, and bone. Caught in the chaos of an up close and personal fighter. In the confusion, the N.O. thugs opened fire on each other as they were slowly picked apart. Roman ducked, dodged, dipped, dived, and dodged. Staying low and making long slashes up torsos, across their backs, and occasionally full on decapitating them. The strong swings and heavy metal of the swords bit into flesh and bone. These cuts were not clean but where jagged and made these men scream and bleed.

The dense smoke eventually gave way to a brutal sight. Multiple N.O. enforcers lay dead on the ground most of them in pieces. Blood dripped off his blades and soaked into his jacket. The heavy breathing of his SCBA filled the immediate area. But within this show of force all the Russian could do was laugh. It had been far too long since he has used these swords in this fashion and still he laughed. A deep laugh that held just the slightest twinges of insanity.

But this battle was not won just yet. He had no idea if there was anyone on the other side of the trucks and there was still a few other vehicles unaccounted for. Picking up a black M4 with a few mags Roman was quick to clear the rest of the crash site but was unable to find anyone else that didn’t die in the crash. Putting one bullet in their heads to make sure he wouldn’t encounter anymore surprises. Suddenly remembering his friend, the Russian quickly went back to the car and started to break apart the foam on the driver’s side.

Eventually He was able to make it to Steve, and he looked alright until he cleared the foam around his abdomen. Steve had been impaled by some metal from the other truck and had been shot a few times. The man wasn’t moving or breathing. Roman didn’t have the supplies or the equipment to save the young man. “Such a waste… you did good kid, you did good.” This sentiment was all he could think to say. The young man would have made a good soldier quite possibly a hell of a pilot too.

The sentiment didn’t last long there was more trucks heading his way. Roman was quick to get the rest of his things and try to make it into the tank before the trucks arrived. But just before he got in the vehicle he saw their lights flash. One one, two two. "Must be those people who called out the distress call". Roman thought feeling a little relaxed now sat down on top of the tank. His pack resting over his shoulders, his clothes soaked in blood, with a rifle in his hand as he began to try to fix the radio in his ear.

From the weakest goblin to the Strongest god

@Wildman13 just wondering is all.

From the weakest goblin to the Strongest god

@Wildman13 you guys waiting on us to get there before you post again?
@Guy0fV4lor something like that.

From the weakest goblin to the Strongest god

@Guy0fV4lorthey do seem to come out of the graves, however Gird hasn't said anything about it because he doesn't know about it. the only thing he knows about is the wolves that come out at night.