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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: The Valinor Forest
So it was that with the fall of their leader and his skull mask torn off, the goblins retreated. Those they fled from, however, felt no glory. No taste of victory graced their lips. Only a dreadful horror, a painful sorrow stung at their eyes. Damien. One who had, despite his withdrawn repose, stepped forward into a position that some might consider leadership. He lay, now, staring into the azure of the sky with glazed, unseeing eyes. His skin was drawn tight across his face, which had sunken in. His mouth still gaped wide, twisted in the horrendous pain that he had felt, before he felt nothing at all. His always-pale complexion was now ghastly. It was so white that it looked nearly gray.
Mahuo’s careful inspections found that life still clung weakly within him. However, the spell that had stricken him could not be identified, and so, how long he would live could not be guessed. Teros, seeing no reason for his presence, brushed by and started down the trail, where he would stand guard. Who knew what still lurked in the woods beyond? Let alone the caves that wormed their way into the cliffs that stood, towering over the body strewn clearing! Vilyamar, still wrapping his wound, approached from the mound that held the fallen shaman. Elandor accompanied him; his newly acquired mask bobbing up and down against his back, where it had been tied. From the path approached Derak, rubbing his precious sword clean of the black blood that coated it.
“Is he alive?” Asked Elandor, gingerly poking the black cloth of Damien’s pant leg. “He’s alive.” Responded Mahuo, rising to her feet and staring into the pale face of the bard. “Though I don’t know how long he’ll last.” “We need to put these caves behind us.” Muttered Vilyamar. “I’m certain they aren’t finished with us. The next time they hit will be harder.” “I agree.” Grunted Derak, shifting his girth, and sheathing his blade. “Them li’l bastards’ll be sure ta strike again. We don’t want any more of us in his position.” He gestured towards the bard. “So what do we do?” Asked the kender with wide eyes.
The decision was a quick one. Whether haste made it foolish or not would yet be determined. Wrapped tightly in his black cloak, Damien was slung over Derak’s shoulder. His black, silken backpack was carried by the half elf monk, who was sure to keep it away from the kender, and his weapons were handed to Mahuo. They would strike up on the road again, and continue as they were. By the look of Damien’s health, turning back towards Aldoris would be pointless. He would never make it...Or so it would seem. Perhaps help lay further down the road? They would see.
Reaching the alter marked fork in the road, they made the right that would take them over these hills, and hopefully away from the goblins. The road was wide, and easily followed. It was a highway, after all. The goblins had chosen an ideal position for there colony. How easy it would be to pick off and ambush unwary and unprepared travelers. However, none in the group could fathom how any form of local village authorities could simply let them be. So it was that they concluded the colony had to be new.
The highway carved itself into the side of one of the hills, and overlooked a shallow, wooded valley. The crowns of the hills were bare, but nestled by woods like ancient, bearded men. The sun was lowering over the peak of the hill across the valley like a golden crown upon its head. The land beyond the hills was ablaze with the fire of the setting sun, and rolled like the waves of a golden sea. It would have been beautiful, were they not fleeing from danger, and dragging a life on the balance.
By the time they had crossed the hills, the sun had set, leaving the sky a velvet purple, laced with the silver of the first rising stars. In fear, they pressed on. Precautions had to be taken, and who knew how far the goblins would pursue them. They would spend the night hunting for them, hopefully in vain. Nonetheless, they should put as much land between them and the colony as possible. There was no moon in the half clouded sky, and the land was hard to distinguish. Trees rose in dark groves, like sentinels of shadow on either side of the road, and the horizon was a high one. The night was cool and laced with the clean, crisp scent of late summer. Crickets and frogs sang in a relentless drone. There might be rain tomorrow. After a couple hours into the night, they pulled to the side of the road, under the eaves of a draping grove of willows. They would stay here. At first, it was argued whether or not a fire was wise. The pale flesh of Damien was so cold and clammy, however, that they determined a fire was worth the risk. Besides. They were far from where they had encountered the goblins. If they had pursued them this far, fire or not, they would be found.
The night went by peacefully, and faded into a gray dawn. The companions hit the road again, and in the grim, cloudy daylight, could see they had passed into lowlands. The grass was tall and reedy. Willows and tall spruces lined the road, littering it with their feathery foliage. Cloaks were drawn tight in the cool breeze. The weather would not be promising on this day.
Soon after midday, a faint trickle began, quickly emanating into a steady sprinkle. The rain, though not heavy, didn’t end, and soon, they found themselves cold, wet, and unhappy. Of course, Mahuo and Gemmi didn’t seem much effected. They were used to the elements, and a little drizzle, and a cool wind were far from extreme. The others, however. Where miserable. Despite his massive size, and apparent strength, Derak became horribly weary. His shoulder was sore, and his back hurt. They had already taken two breaks that day, due to his fatigue. But they were still forced to take an early halt that evening. Wrapped in their soggy cloaks, the group sat under an ancient willow on the grass lined bank of a clear pool. After a miserable doubt of water, and a bite of wet bread, they turned their attention to Damien.
How odd it was. The bard had begun breathing heavy...Too heavy to be normal. No longer was his flesh cold and clammy. Not even in the chill, wet air. Though still horribly pale, it burned in a high fever, and his fists opened wide, only to clench in a tight ball again. Was this a good sign or a bad sign? Who knew? One thing was certain, however. As it was, his fate was out of their hands. They could only continue.
No fire could be started, which made things worse. The night was cold. The rain became heavy. Sleep came faintly, if at all. Damien’s sharp gasps and shrill groans of torment tore into the minds of everyone else, adding to the impossibility of sleep. By now, even Mahuo and the ever cheerful kender were unhappy....to say the least.
((:::::AMIEN::::
When the shamans staff aimed for the bard, he didn’t know what to expect. He hadn’t long to wait, however. For within seconds, a horrible, sharp pain stabbed through his brain, which began to feel as if it was twisting and contorting. The pain in his head was unlike any he had felt before. Perhaps any he would ever feel. It grew in intensity. The battle began to twist and spin. Color was blended, and shape was melted. Suddenly, his brain twisted in one final spasm. Losing strength to stand, he dropped to his knees, and a terrible cry of pain, anguish, and terror was torn forth from him. The shadow that hung over him plunged down his throat. He could feel the presence of something unholy; something evil inside his very body. His very soul was under attack, and there was nothing he could do.
He no longer felt. he no longer saw, at least, not the world around him. Memories flashed before him, starting with the oldest he had. Ones he had forgotten completely! From his early childhood up until the moment he dropped to his knees, the memories flashed before him. The most terrible of memories seemed to linger longer than others, before finally switching to the next. When all had been seen, certain memories were played over, and over and over again. Not good memories. Now he only saw the most terrible parts of his life, over, and over, and over again. He saw her falling over and over and over again. He saw her eyes deaden over and over and over again, until finally, all was lost. There was nothing. Damien no longer thought. He no longer felt. He no longer was.
Who’s to say how long his deadness lasted? But eventually, he came to being again. He was in shadow. Cold, empty shadow, in a void of nothingness. It was him, but he had no name. Infact, he had only one memory. She was falling. He had two emotions. Horror, and sorrow. How long did this last? An eternity. It swept from one eternity to another, until finally, a strange light surrounded him. The orange, hellish glow of flames infernal. They surrounded him, swaying and dancing. Great, wheeling flames closed in on him, this nameless one with one memory. He felt only pain, suffering. His flesh withered and burned, only to continue to wither and burn. His torment was relentless, never ceasing. He saw was fire and her dead eyes. All he felt was pain.
((:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Finally, at some point in the middle of the night, the rain let up, as good as that would do. They were soaked, with no light and no fire to warm up to. Somehow, however, they managed. The first, rosy fingers of an early dawn stretched through the delicate, hanging boughs of the great willows. As tired as they were, they decided they should head out. They were soaked, and soar, and Damien was in rough shape.
The morning became graciously warm. (Whoever is secure enough can take off there cloak and shirt.) It would be a while before all was dry again, but one must be thankful for what they are given.. By midday they had left the lowlands, and were crossing an ascending, swaying grassland. By now, perhaps some in the party were beginning to wonder if this Valinon forest even existed! They would be thankful, when they saw in the distance, the faint, green haze of a forest on the horizon. On they went, ignoring the griping of Derak. He was tough, he could manage. The day wore on, and the trees loomed nearer. The sun set, casting the land in a golden mist, and still they went on. The silver, near full moon rose, and the stars peeked down on them, and still they went on. Finally, about an hour into the night, they reached the towering, thick boughs of this ancient forest.
“Maybe we should stay here for the night. No use tramping through a forest in the middle of the night. And my damn shoulder is killing me.” Grumbled Derak. His complaint was a righteous one, and the others were about to agree, when Vilyamar hushed them, and carefully approached the shadows of the forest. “Shush” He hissed, cocking his head. “Do you hear that? It sounds like singing.” The group fell silent, with the exception of the gasping bard. It was true. Singing could be heard, but in no voices any in that group had heard. Save one. Voices carried through the night, as clear as a stream, as delicate as fern, and as unworldly as the silver moon. The hair stood on everyone's neck. Even Damien’s torment racked gasps died down, as if eased. A melody as drifting as the breeze swept over them, filling each a strange blend of sorrow and joy. “Elves!” Cried Vilyamar, hopping on a log, and peering into the forest. “Iv not such beautiful voices in all my life.” Gasped Teros. Before Anyone could stop him, the kender pointed and cried “Lights!” Before plunging into the forest.
They followed him, even the grumbling Derak, who had slung Damien over his shoulder once more. True enough, lights could be seen, flickering between the thick trunks of the trees. The way was strewn with logs and fallen branches, but they made it. They stood in a clearing. Before them grew a strange, grove of trees. They grew in line, and there boughs swept towards one another, forming a roofed hall. Strange, silver lanterns clung to their trunks, and in the center leapt a fire of....silver! Elves stood all about, staring strangely at them. The most beautiful creatures any of them had ever seen. The moonlight fell silver in their long, glossy hair, and their tall, elegant forms were cloaked in grays, greens, and silvers. There were many of them, at least thirty, and though most stared unmovingly at the company, the beautiful, mysterious song still hung in the air.
((I know its long. I wanted to get you guys moving and making progress, though. Plus, hehe, as I told you when we started. This game is detailed! Anyways. We are back in full swing. I hope you enjoyed my post, I look forward to yours. You are all standing there, staring at the elves. Say or do whatever you want.))
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:33:45.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Scenario
As Teros started down the path, he listened for any sound that might refur to living goblins, but he heard none. Finally reaching his designated gaurd position, he haulted, eyes and ears open. He neither heard, nor saw anything, however.
There are no living goblins outside of the cliffs at this moment. However, faint yelps and gravvely screaches can be heard, emminating from the several tunnels thar mar the smooth stone surface. It seems there is a very living colony still withing the cliffs.
Damien is pale, cold, and clammy. A first glance, followed by a second, longer glance would still lead one to believe the bard is dead. His black cloak, and raven hair lie, spread about his grey skin in a ghastly appearance. However, a very faint heartbeat can be felt, fading warmth comes from his gaping mouth. Any potions that you have, or spells, have no immediate effect, though, you can still attempt to any that you think may help.
If the party wants to make a quick retreat to the road, where they can find a place to perhaps hide, or hurry on down the road, then Damien IS light enough for Derek to carry over his shoulder. Or, if you feel that comfort is more of a comodity than haste, there is a broken door leaning against one of the sheds. (The sheds are empty...simple gaurd huts). The door could be made into a sled if any of you have rope.
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:33:16.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Elandor
Elandor took the helmet of the Goblin leader in his hands and held it up to his face, as if it was somebody's head facing the little rogue. He sensed the evilness inside and tried to find exactly what made him realize he'd better not place this thing over his head.
"Hmmm," he said to himself, while turning the mask this way and that, "what is it in you that gives me this weird feeling?"
The skull didn't answer so Elandor cast a doubtful look at Vilyamar, explaining that there was something he didn't get about the mask.
When Teros asked for something to wrap his wounded arm Elandor again looked at the skull. Staring it straight in the eye-holes he asked it: "Do you have anything to wrap Teros' arm?" With his hand he let the skull go from left to right and back again, like the skull shook itself in a denying gesture.
"Hmmm, alright then. I'll find something myself!" Elandor put the skull down and went for the goblin that lay closest to him. Ripping a strip of cloth from its outfit, at a spot not stained with blood, he created some sort of primitive bandage. He handed this to Teros, at a lack of having any better material.
After that he took a piece of rope and tied it through the skull's eye-holes. The two ends of the rope he tied together, thus creating a loop that he wore over his shoulder, the skull dangling at his back. He then went to the place where Damien was still lying flat, taken by the magic of the goblinleader.
"Will he be alright?"
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:32:16.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Teros
Teros wrapped his wound in the material the Kender had given him (assuming that he did), and then looked at what the shaman had. As he looked at it, he felt an aura of evil. He shivered and then left. Immediatly the sight of the goblins squirming in the vines caught his eyes.
"Well someone has to take care of them.." he said shrugging slightly. Taking his time, he pulls out his sword, and calmy dispatches each one with care, giving each a swift death. After killing each one he checks up on Damien, says a short prayer to his goddess.
Moving hesitantly, as if deciding what to do, he looks around, mumbling words to himself, and then finally advancing up that path (around 500 feet). From here he takes out his sword and keeps watch to make sure that no one tries anything from the rear.
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:32:00.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Vilyamar
The monk looked over at the kender as he rushed up to rip off the skull helm of the evil goblin. As soon as the kender picked it up he wore a strange look upon his face.
"What is it? Is there something wrong?" Vilyamar asked him quietly, following his gaze to the helmet. Even from a distance, Vilyamar could feel the evil radiating from the skull. He, too, threw a revolted look upon his face, but immediatly cleared his face of emotion, following a practice of the elves to deal with turmoil.
He was at the time examining the staff, though he wasn't too sure about anything on it, he thought it was just normal. But the skull however, was not normal. It had some pretty evil properties to it, or so he thought.
He thought of making for the kender and the skull, but he did not think the kender would be dumb enough to cause damage with it. Besides, Teros and Derak could deal with it and Vilyamar could easily deal with the kender even with the help of a magical item or two.
He turned his attention towards Mahou and Damien, an expression of worry clouding his face.
"Do you know what happened to him? I heard naught but a scream and when I saw he was enveloped in darkness and passed out." Vilyamar said.
Listening then to her request to keep a perimeter, he nodded curtly, agreeing that they shouldn't try to move Damien, not until he awoke and they found what had happened. Vilyamar then runs up the hill, towards the caves to see what might've happened to the goblins that escaped their.
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:31:06.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Mahuo
Mahou held her bow tight ready to draw another arrow if the one she'd prveiously fired did not down the goblin she had aimed it at. Mahou's hazel eyes met with the black skined mage as he took his final breath falling to his knees. Mahou coudn't pull ehr eyes away from him as he fell face first to lay liveless ont he ground.
Feeling a shiver run down her spine at the sight of this seemingly great mageshe had killed Mahou had a mix of emotions, worry for the repurcutions killing someone such as him would bring, pleasure for having the strength to take something down...Mahous thoughts trailed on this though as she remembered why she had acted so quickly, turning Mahou turned to face Damian who also now lay upon the ground. What ever magic the mage had woven was tht of evil.
Mahou hurried to Damiens side kneeling down upon the grass she looked him over trying to determind wht exactly had happened. Tucking lengths of aburn hair behind her horns and ear's Mahou sat a bit dumbfounded at what had happened. Mahou chanced a look around to see that the others had finished off all still liveing tht might threaten them. once assured that all where safe mahou turned her gaze back to damien adjusting him tell she thought he could lay comfortably and waited for the others so they could decide what to do from here.
(sorry for the vage post, i just wanted to get something out. Mahou will stay by damiens side, i'm not sure if she knows what spell was cast upon him, or what it's effects are. i beleive either way she'll suggest that the others scout around to make sure there is no badies left because they'll need to stay put untell Damien awakens)
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:30:30.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Derak
Derek was relived to have maade it threw such a unbalanced battle. He was lucky to have made it threw with only a simple stap from a spear. He held his wound firmly to stop the bleeding. He would be fine but what about his other teammates? Damien had suffered some coma type spell from the ring leader goblin. Who knows what the outcome of the spell would be, for Derek wasn't too familiar with the ways of magic. The possibilites of magic were mind boggling to him though. If it weren't for that vein spell from the goat lady who knows what the outcome of the battle could be. Derak nodded back at Teros, he was indeed a good swordsman. The two of them paired were a match not to be messed with. Their talents combined was like mixing oil and fire, a leathal combination. Derek smirked at the bodies piled before him. For Derek had some doubt in his mind if he was going to make it out of that whole ordeal, but that was what Derek's mistake was "doubt". He dwarfen teacher had always taught him to fight as if it were impossible to lose, and sure enough as soon as the thought of doubt drowned his focus he felt the sharp pain to his side. He had broken one of his own rules, he debated to himself that it would never happen again. He walked over to one of the carcasses poking it with the tip of his sword. "little bastards sure can put up a good fight if delt with enough numbers!" That was another thing that Brotter his dwarfen teacher had taught him, superior numbers win the day. But perhad master brotter was incorrect in this case. He looked around to the little feller getting released from the veins, Derek cared little for the litte one. What good could that guy do in battle, Derek pondered to himself. He wasn't much bigger than one of the children in his hometown. As matter of fact the kender didn't make one swing during battle, he is just another mouth to feed. If it was up to Derek he woulda left the little bugger dangling in the veins. However, Derek held his tongue, he didn't think that a opinion wasn't exactly appropriate at this time. "Everyone ok?!" Derek shouted even though Vilyamar and Teros had already begun to tend to the severly wounded. By the way that Vilyamar guy was pretty handy for onely useing those weird weapons. He was man of extreme talent and his body had been crafted threw extreme practice into a weapon. Their was a monk at his hometown Pellsville, but not as good as Vilyamar. The way he was taking down goblins was almost graceful, almost like a dance or a play. It was fasinateing to watch him in battle. Even though Derek could only catch a few quick glimpses of Vilyamar threw the chaos. He was proud to be part of such a deadly alliance, perhaps they all weren't as bad as expected.....
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:30:08.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: A Freed Kender and A Dead Shaman
(to save future posts)
As Teros approaches Elandor, the kender successfully squirms free of the vines that held him tight.
Anyone searching the leader find a strange, bead draped staff, crowned with a skull, a black sash, strung with beads, skulls, bones, and shrunken human heads...sacks filled with various, organic substances, and an evil, horned, skull mask.
Rushing up to the dead goblin, Elandor, without hesitation, ripped off the skull. The goblins hidious black face stared lifelessly through glazed, yellow eyes. Blood trickled from his gaping, fang lined mouth.
The skull stared sinister into Elandor's eyes from his hands. Though he was imune to fear, the kender was highly sensative to the feelings around him. This skull was evil.
(none of the other goblins carry more than allready mentioned.)
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:29:54.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Teros
Teros relaxed and turned to nod to Derak, the two had made a surprisingly good team against the horde of goblins, however that did not stop the occasional lucky blow tha he had recieved.
Knowing that he had to stop the bleeding, he looks around for a big stick, finding one in the bushes off to his right. He rubs the dirt off of it and inspects it for goblin blood, smiling when he finds none. He then pulls out an arrow, and takes his sword, speaking the command word. The sword heats up, and he lightly touches that steel tip of the arrow to the blade. After around 3 seconds, he takes it off, speaks the command word, and puts the sword away. He puts the wood in his mouth and bites down hard. He then carefully places the arrow in the wound, making sure to get it all around. He attempts to control his scream, if it could be called that, however the wood does that. After a few seconds he takes it out and gasps for air, bending down on his knees.
Knowing that he had too look for the halfling, he stumbles around in the bushes, hearing him squirming and talking. When he finds him trying to escape the vines. He pulls out his sword and waits a moment to see if he can get out on his own.
(If he gets out on his own then he goes to search the leader with the him, after asking if he had something to wrap his wound in. If he dosn't, then he carefully cuts the vines and frees him. He then asks for something to wrap his wounds. )
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:29:21.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Elandor
As the first vines wrapped themselves around his ankles Elandor's expectations grew. The offering he made on that altar not too long ago seemed to have its result. The goddess of nature was aiding them! Those people that were comming through the bushes were probably sent by her too.
"Still," he thought, "I wish she had told the plants which people to pick... they must think I'm one of the bad-guys."
Then the strength of the vines tore him down and pressed hard in his flesh, holding him to the mossy ground.
"Hey!" Elandor screemed, "You're entangling the wrong guy here!"
One of the vines tore with disturbing force at his neck, blocking his trachea, and the kender wrenched his fingers under it in an effort to pry it loose. Holding off the snakelike plant he shouted: "I'M NOT A GOBLIN!!!"
Apperently his shouting didn't really affect the plants and they happily held Elandor to the floor. Not too far away lay one of the Goblins in a similar struggle against the power of nature. Elandor yelled at it: "Hey... you there... goblin... can you give me a hand here? huh? What? Hey, com'on. This is YOUR forest. No doubt you have SOMEthing to say over it?"
Seeing that the goblin didn't make any move to help him out there Elandor made another attempt to pry himself loose. This time he didn't try breaking the leaves and stems that held him. Instead he relaxed his mind and muscles and tried gliding his hands and legs from under the vines. With small twists and wriggles he sought ways to slide the vines off him.
(OOC: he makes an 'escape artist' attempt. If this succeeds he will go and help Vilyamar in searching the Goblin leader's body, and he will take the cool skull-helmet.)
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:28:58.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Vilyamar
The battle rushed into full swing, the blows traded unequal and heavily favoured on the group's side. Heavy cuts from Derak and Teros swept away the goblins that rushed at them in a mighty fury of blood and guts, dark fluids splashing all over them. The three warriors held their ground indefinately, it was only goblins.
Vilyamar made his way slightly off from the other two, his blows being carried out much faster than theirs with their heavy swords. With graceful arcs of his nunchaku and powerful lashes of his feet, Vilyamar managed to work himself into a deadly dance, weaving a large pile of bodies about him as he ducked and dodged the incoming spears and swords. Fire flashed and lighting crackled as the nuchaku swung and whirled dizzily striking many goblins down.
He was quite absorbed with his fighting and so had not noticed the dark cloud of magic that had moved above him and had placed itself within Damien, though he did hear the scream and looked over to see darker than ususal shadows looming about him right before he went unconcious and sank to the ground. That did nothing but further enrage him and he beat down as many of the marauding goblins as he could. Soon he noticed that the waves of green-skinned and black-skinned brutes were starting to have a tendency to moving away from them, back to the caves. He bashed a few more before they reached their caves and he also caught sight of the fallen leader.
Looking over he saw about half a score of goblins writhing amongst the undergrowth as they had been within range of Mahou's wonderous nature spell casting. At least that was what the monk assumed, for he was not learned in the ways of the arcane. He also numbered another among the struggling, their kender member who had mysteriously disappeared before the start of battle. He, too, must have gotten distracted by Damien's spell and ended up getting too close to the Mahou's, effectively rendering him useless during the battle.
"Hail Mahou! Good job! Now, Do you know how we deal with these creatures? Can you at least ask the vines to let loose our little friend? He seems to be slightly...tied up at the moment." Vil called out to the edge of the battlefield, or wherever Mahou was.
He glanced over and saw Teros and Derak bleeding from a few cuts, Teros especially, having taken a cleaver in the shoulder, the wound would especially be dangerous if not bound and the flow of blood stemmed. Vilyamar gracefully and skillfully leaped over the many bodies of the goblins, coming to the leader, the Shaman. He shuffled the body, removing the helm and inspecting it for any sign or markings that would give any clue about anything. He also searched it for its items, though this may have best been left to the kender, he may not have actually realized the possible worth some items may have. And the possibility that this goblin may have clues on itself that could lead to the leaf.
Once he's finished with searching the body, he moved to the prone form of Damien, checking vitals and searching for open wounds. Just as his father had shown him long ago. Seeing that he seemed perfectly fine, he asked the others if they had seen what had happened to Damien. If the others had, and they can describe it as was in the update, Vilyamar will suggest that perhaps he has been possessed by some sort of evil goblin shamanic practices. Who knows, it may have poisoned his thoughts against us, or the quest, or who knows what. All Vilyamar knows is that with magic, doing what you think is best may not be so, and he does not immediately try to revive Damien. He does suggest somewhere and sometime that Teros and Derak tend to their own wounds before helping the others. And he silently keeps in the back of his mind the fact that the goblins COULD reemerge with reinforcements, which, without Damien's spells and being burdened by Damien, could prove disastrous.
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:28:42.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Goblin Battle
If it was goblins they wanted, goblins they most certainly got! As they followed the thin, winding path, they could certainly hear the gravelly cheers and chants that emanated before them, echoing off the trunks of trees, and pounding in from every angle. Finally, they came to a clearing, and beheld the end of their journey on this path. A host of cheering goblins and bristling spears crowded around a great, black, apparent leader, helmed with death, and armed with evil.
There was no time to talk this over, the nearest goblins were not 15 feet away! Knowing this, each member acted on instinct. Screeching to a halt, the kenders eyes widened at the host before him. Without second thought or hesitation, he had plunged into the brush that rose on the left side of the path,(and clearing.)
As he watched Elandor disappear into the thick, green bushes, Teros’ dark eyes gleamed with malicious glee, at the images of death and carnage that danced within his mind. Drawing his blade, he glanced back at the others in a silent attempt at a rally. Mahuo motioned him to stay, however, and so he halted. Vilyamar, who had been about to follow the desert fighters lead hesitated as well. Derak, who had started for Teros in an attempt to stop him, breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps this group did have some common sense?
The three fighters looked on anxiously as Damien, his black hair shrouding his pale face, whispered urgently with the Satyr. What were they doing? Finally, the bard in black nodded and started to creep by the confused trio of onlookers. Crouching at the edge of the forests shadows, wrapped tightly in the black of his cloak, and the darkness of his heart, he began muttering the spidery language of magic. His fragile fingers danced as they wove his minds shadows into threads of reality.
Perhaps they had hesitated too long, however. Just as Damien was about finished with his spell, the fire rimmed eyes of the masked leader fell on him. Raising his great, beaded staff above his horned head, he gave a great cry, and pointed directly at the group, (excluding the hidden kender). The attention of Vilyamar, Derak, and Teros were immediately turned from the bard to the wave of spear bristling goblins about to wash over him. Leaping forward, forming a wall, it was they that the wave crashed upon, not Damien, who, having successfully cast his spell, staggered back toward Mahuo, just as the clash of spear and sword rang out behind him.
Suddenly, it seemed a whole troupe was about to flank the goblins. The farthest back could hear the hoots and hollers, the cracking and snapping of twigs just through the brush at their right. Elandor, hidden within the low hanging eaves of the brush, could also hear the forest sounds, not 20 feet to his left. Forgetting the leader with the interesting mask, he turned his attention in that direction.
The leader, still standing on his mound, turned his gaze from the group, to the sounds in the brush. Obeying his roaring commands, about 10 of the rear goblins turned from the battle on the path, and charged towards the sounds of the apparent flanking group.
The goblins fought with a ferocity the three fighters had not never expected. Backed by their evil leader, they slashed, stabbed, grabbed, and bit at them with no regard for their own well-being. The first several goblins to reach the three were hewed and beaten down, only to have their bleeding corpses leapt over by several more.
Eventually, Vilyamar as able to work his way away from the swinging blades of Teros and Derak, and to an outskirts, where his flailing nuchuk, and skillful, sweeping kicks soon created a circle of bodies around him. He finally seemed to get into a zone. No goblin blade could touch him. He was ducking tripping, smashing and kicking the hordes as they came to him. The monk fought in a fury.
Derak and Teros were instantly the center of the fray, and immediately discovered that they were a deadly team. Goblin after goblin fell, carven and hewed by their singing blades. A pile built before them, but the goblins kept coming. A spear jabbed into Deraks side, sending a shape pain up his torso. His blade cleaved through the skull of the goblin, forming a fountain of black. He kept fighting. The wild swipe of a rusty sword cut a small line of blood across Teros’ dark cheek. The close call broke his concentration and he paid with cleaver cut into his left shoulder. The wound burned, but it wouldn’t slow him down now. With two, great, arching swings, he dropped the goblins, their bowels spilling out before him. He fought on, and still they came.
Mahuo noticed the pack of distracted goblins as they headed for the brush away from the battle. Derak, Vilyamar, and Teros still held back the swarms, so, taking this opportunity, she cast her spell, calling upon the power of Inenhalla to aid them in this battle in the wilderness.
Elandor peered into the brush with curiosity as the pack of nearly a dozen goblins plunged in, not far from him. Who was coming from the forest? Surely they were alone! It sounded like men, but why were they here? Placing a stone in his hoopak, he prepared to make up his mind on who to peg, but something terribly exciting to the little kender happened. All about him, the brush, and snaking vines began to writhe and shake with life. Widening his eyes in surprise, and dropping the stone, he leapt to his feat, forgetting all thought of battle. How exciting! The forest was coming to life! To his left, the pack of goblins began screeching in their terrible voices. They must be just excited! A vine wrapped around his ankle. Elandor raised an eyebrow. Another snaked up his other leg, swirling around his body and gripping him firmly. The branches of the brush he hid under suddenly closed in on him, while two vines went for his wrists. Struggle as he may, he couldn’t get out! From the corner of his eye, he could see the pack of goblins were having the same difficulty.
The leader stood, his legs apart, and his hands held high above his head. From the depths of his sinister mask seeped a terrible chant. Damien, seeing things not going as well as was briefly planned, aimed to cut the root from the plant. Through bardic magic, a terrible roar tore through the air where the leader stood. The terrible sound caused the entire battle to tremble. Several goblins dropped to the floor, gripping their long, pointed ears in agony. The leader staggered back, and turned his terrible gaze on the bard. Pointing his bead strung staff in Damien’s direction, he began a chant again. The words could be heard by all, but by Damien, they seemed to pound from within his very mind. Terrible words, woven through evil. The bard put his hands on his head, shaking it frantically. It seemed his brain contorted and writhed. Shocking pain tore through his head. The forest spun, and the clashing sounds of battle seemed to fade into a dark distance.
A mist of darkness began spiraling up from the feet of the leader. It wove itself into a very fabric of shadow, and it loomed like a terrible cloud of evil over his horned head. With a thrust of his staff, the cloud snaked forward, over the battle, and settling down on the tormented bard. Suddenly, Damien, having dropped to his knees, gave a soul rending scream. The cloud plunged down his gaping mouth.
An arrow flew from behind the bard, suddenly, and sunk into the painted stomach of the leader. His chanting stopped. His staff and his cleaver dropped to the ground, and his hands went to the shaft. His burning eyes focused on the arrow for a moment, before falling on Mahuo with hate the struck like a blow. Suddenly, he collapsed face first.
At the fall of their leader, the goblins tried to flee back to the caves. Most were cut or struck down by Vilyamar, Derak, or Teros, but some made it back to their holes, where they disappeared into the stony face of the cliff.
The muffled voices of goblins shouted and shrieked from the brush to the left of the clearing. (the ones inflicted by nature.) Derak, Teros, and Vilyamar stood, drenched in black blood, and two of them flowing with their own, in the opening of the path. Piles of carnage lie about them. Bodies lay, carven lobbed lie nightmarish islands rising from the pools of black blood. None knew where Elandor was. Damien lay on his back. His face terribly pale, contorted in the terrible agony of his last moments of consciousness.
Derak took 12
Teros took 9
Elandor is a bit tied up...hehe.
10 Goblins remain tied up about 20 feet from Elandor
Damien is unconscious. (Damien, you are experiencing nothing. No dreams. Nothing.)
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:28:20.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Damien
(OOC: This is a joint post for Damien and Mahou, helping simplify more advanced interaction between the two characters.)
Goblins… lots of them. A strange black one, too, wearing a big helm made from some kind of beast. They would probably kill us in single fighting…but… perhaps magic can aid us once again.
Damien stared at the numbers, his hand resting on the hilt of his rapier. They had dispatched the previous group with ease, but this was a whole settlement! This would be fighting on their turf, not that of the group. They did not know the ground, the ambush sites, anything of the sort. They were at an immense disadvantage in this whole ordeal.
Taking a quick glance at their small team, he realized that the kender had gone missing somewhere. Uttering a silent curse, Damien clenched his hands together. The little man carried a hoopak staff, with which he was sure that he could strike down the tough looking goblin. Turning his gaze about once more, he landed his eyes upon the satyr. She had shot down one of the goblins that had been moving to strike his blindside, and she did it with him being extremely close to the small creature.
Sliding over towards her with fluid grace, Damien leaned in close to her ear, making certain that she noticed him and did not act in panic, and whispered a plan he had quickly devised inside his clever mind.
“Satyr… Your bow, could you use it to bring down that black goblin in the center?” He whispered to her, motioning to the bigger goblin with a slight nod of his head. His hair had fallen about, but he did not care. They needed to get this plan working quickly, and he had his part of it set out. Though he possessed throwing daggers, he doubted that he could hurl the light blade far enough to hit with force. Magic was a much more powerful force in him.
“If I can provide a distraction, do you think you could take him down? I’ve seen your marksmanship, and I am confident in you.”
Mahou tilted her head slightly, sending strands of auburn hair across her face, as Damien leaned in close. A smile crossed her lips as his soft words reached her ear and she shook her head. It was then she noticed Teros and she raised a hand to tell him to wait.
“I think I have a better idea.” She said as she set Gemi down. “Wait here Gemi.” Mahou stood again her hands now free of the wolverine. Mahou’s hazel eyes turned back to Damien and she spoke quickly sure they could not stand here much longer with out getting caught. “Sometimes a bow is not the only weapon that is worth while to use. Provide you’re distraction if you must, but I think I and Inenhalla can handle such things.”
The smile upon Mahou’s face widened as she turned her eyes to the goblins and she mentally prepared her spell. Glancing between the goblins and Damien she waited for him to signal that he was ready for her to move forward for her plans.
Nodding to Mahou, Damien slowly crept forwards, trying to gain a better view of the black skinned goblin standing in the center of the large group. Though he was fairly close to the front of their party right now, he ducked low and pulled his cloak around his body. Beneath his shroud, he began to mutter arcane words and flutter his fingers in intricate patterns, helping to weave the threads of the spell, which he was pulling from the darkness of his heart.
From behind the huge group of goblins, a crashing sound came from in the trees, the sounds that a quartet of large humans pressing through the bush might make. Sticks snapped, words were spoken, and branches rustled in the trees. Convincing noises, though Damien knew that they were not real, only made of illusion.
Smiling slightly, the crafty bard began to slink back towards Mahou, nodding to her from his position low to the ground. Slowly, he rose up to stand beside the satyr, and, in a barely audible whisper, told her that his part was done.
“Do your work, satyr.” He hissed.
(OOC: Damien has cast Ghost Sound, replicating the sounds of four noisy humans talking amongst themselves, and pressing through the bushes.)
Mahou watched as the crafty bard did his work. As the sounds began to ramble though the bush she raised a brow, what a nice trick, though she hardly thought it was effective enough to help them. Mahou shoot her raised brow to Damien as the dark bard moved back towards her.
Mahou watched waiting for the goblins to react to the sounds. (she’ll wait tell them move unless they take notice of the group first) Kneeling down Mahou placed on hand on the ground bowing her head she whispered the chant that would activate her spell. A soft breeze ruffled her hair as each word passed her lips, sending a few near leaves scattering away from her fingertips. Mahou’s head lifted focusing on the center point of her spell. (I don’t know the exact distance between the group, and us, so Mahou will set it on the farthest end of the group of biddies from herself.)
As Mahou’s hand lifted from the ground in a delicate dancing patter, something stirred on the other side of the clearing. With out warning the plant life just under the goblin’s feet began to twitch and move as it if had a life of it’s own. The bushes, weeds and grass across the clearing began to crawl up the legs of those within the range of the spell holding them fast to the ground.
As Mahou stood fully she tossed her head back in triumph as her work. Mahou pulled her bow of her shoulders her hazel eyes looking towards Damien with a teasing look as if she’d done better then him.
“Shall we finish this?” she whispered as she reached to load her bow Signaling to the others of the group if they where going to act now would be the time.
Damien watched in sheer amazement as the vines, grass, and roots began to rise from the ground, wrapping their targets and binding them fast in place. He could feel a slight breeze sail through his long black hair, but he barely noticed it. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one capable of using magic. Mahou was able to as well, though this spell was of a type Damien could not hope to summon from within his heart.
“Astounding…” He spoke slowly, nodding slightly to Mahou’s whisper to himself and the others. She was moving to nock an arrow to her bowstring, and he himself set into action. Though he could have chosen to draw steel and activate his icy enchantment that would frost over his slender rapier, he picked a different weapon in his arsenal. Once more, he delved within himself, tapping his inner magics, and selected a potent spell, the patterns of which he had learned long ago.
Whispering the words required to strengthen the spell, he began to draw deep breaths, pulling his arms in close and slowly extending them outwards, helping to control his breathing patterns. As the words slipped from his mouth, the others set into action, though he kept his eyes locked upon the black skinned goblin in the midst of the community.
Upon speaking the final word, he brought his hands in from the sides, clapping them loudly, tilted back his head, and leaned forwards as though screaming. Unlike any normal form of bellow, however, the sound came not from his mouth, but from above the black skinned leader, crashing down to erupt a cacophonous roar in their midst.
(OOC: Damien will use Sound Burst, centered on the leader, after the other party members set into action. He will then begin to recite a poem about his allies in battle, invoking the Inspire Competence bard song effect.)
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:28:01.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Derak
Derak was shocked to see the mass of goblins around this obvious head goblin. Derak calmly kneeled behind a bush. It would be suicide to enter, Derak wasn't afraid. He probably equaled about 5 of those goblins but still it was just plain dumb to storm in. Derak's mind began to ponder....what happened to those fleeing goblins? Perhap they ran here and summoned this large goblin as reinforcement. Derak iron ball fist squeezed tight with fury. Derak eyed his teammates cautiously, the reckless sword swinging happy group would doubtlessly dive right into trouble. He would attempt to restrain any that would try and fight the large group. There wasn't too much Derak could do at this point, they were in a tough perdicament which only time would show them the answer to resolve this problem. Perhaps battle would be ineviatable but Derak would do whatever nessasary to avoid it.
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:27:47.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Teros
Going down the path, Teros had been thinking about what those goblins who had run away had done. Of course, they were easy kills so it didn't matter much to him, until the laughing, cheering, howling, and other sounds started comming from the forest around him. His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, which was up and at an angle, and he continued on with caution.
He continued on, almost oblivious to what was in front of him until he ran into the halfling. He looked ahead to see why they stopped and saw the large group of goblins. Soon little drawings off goblins getting hacked to pieces by Derak, Teros, and Damien all appeared in his head, complete with a couple bleeding to death with arrows in their bodies. It was quite commical, however the situation was not. He was prepared to fight. He watched the Halfling go into the forest and become one with the bushes, however he did catch him shooting some glances at that funny mask that guy was wearing. It only took a couple of seconds for him to figure out what that ment.
He nodded to the bushes and begin to move forward. He looked back at Mahou to and nodded to see if he rear would be covered, and then continued on, back hunched. He touched the arm of each one as he went and with his hands showed he wanted to move forward.
(Should the at least one other person show some sign of agreeing with him then he will rush forward into combat. If no one does than he will back up slowly to try and get back into his position until a decision is made. When he gets in combat, he will stay and fight no matter what his HP level is, and will try to hack his way to the strange looking goblin. Should the goblins see them before any attack is made, then he will get in the front of the path and move 10 feet in front of everyone else, prepared action against the first foe to enter his threatened area.)
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:27:26.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Elandor
Upon seeing the band of cheering goblins Elandor dived into the bushes, leaving the rest of the group standing on the path. To him, it didn't seem like a wise idea to just plunge into the goblin forces. He remembered how easily they had found victory over the band of thugs the other day, but he also remembered that the bandits hadn't been with over 30 men.
He saw the incredible mask the goblin leader wore and realized that wearing such a mask probably indicated that this warrior wasn't easily messed with. Suddenly a thought hit the small kender's mind... If HE was to wear that mask, then people would probably think the same of Elandor Underhood next time they would encounter them. If this came to a fight then Elandor would take the skull afterwards and wear it. Now he only had to find a way to get it.
Crouching as softly as possible without being seen (MS +17 HS +21) he tried to make his way to the side of the goblin band so that he could flank the leader in battle. A surprising sneakattack would probably be best in this situation.
(OOC:If it comes to battle Elandor will wait untill his position is such that he can make a ranged sneak attack at the leader. If this position is not gained than he will shoot or backstab the goblin fighters that are nearer. He will run for a better position if his wounds are getting too heavy.)
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:27:10.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Vilyamar
((Now this is a post, Actions taking place after Teros's.))
The monk's wound was not serious at all and they began to move through the forest. His ears had elven traits to them and could pick up sounds slightly better than a normal human, and this allowed his to hear the hoots and cheers of the goblins before the others. He spun his head on this way and that, trying to fix a direction and location on the hollering, but the sounds bounced off the trees and made it nearly impossible to tell anything except for that they were getting closer.
Soon the Desert man named Teros moved his hand to the hilt of his sword and others around him moved for their weapons. Vilyamar did not yet move for his, unsure if he would need it or not. A clearing opened up before them and they suddenly knew the location of the cheers.
Before them stood a thriving mass of about one and half score goblins, or so Vilyamar's eyes caught. They also caught sight of the huts and caves just beyond the dirty creatures. With that in mind, he was just about to suggest that they turn, as he really didn't want to pick a fight with 30 of the troublesome creatures much less over a hundered which the caves could undoubtedly have supported. But as he looked around, and away from the evil looking goblin wearing a large skull it must have found in the caves, he noticed not only that the Kender was gone, but also that Teros had already moved torward the bushes and was about to put himself as a target for all those lovely little goblins.
Sighing to himself, he, for the second time in one day, drew out his nunchaku and while preparing to speak the arcane runes to activate the glowing runes, spun them into the ready position under his right arm. With it in place, he moved quickly off in the opposite direction of Teros, attempting to hit the goblins from the side, as soon as Teros started to attack. He planned to get the goblins so confused they wouldn't know where the attacks were coming from.
(As soon as Teros attacks, Vilyamar will count 2 seconds and then whisper the enchantment for his nunchaku and then he Kied up for a flying side-kick into the goblin mass. (Ki) As he lands among the horde he brings the nunchaku around for a hit and then a left inward crescent kick. Then he will run away, hopefull drawing some goblins back away from the others.
OR if someone like Damien or Mahou or both decide to come with them, he will activate the enchantment, Ki up and strike the goblin flank but not too deep, just enough to turn a few heads. Otherwise he'll protect whoever's casting a spell.)
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:26:54.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Following The Path
(Yes, this is delayed, short, without detail, and to the point. I have a thousand and one games to update, so deal with it!)
Having completely deflected the weak ambush attempt by the tribal goblins, the group decided to press on. Perhaps this spear lined path led to the leaf? The thought that goblins would have any interest in protecting a tree was completely contradictory of goblin nature; but there was a possibility, and decidedly it should be exploited.
(Same order as last. Gemmi reappeared, covered in goblin blood Last post)
Led by Damien, Bard in Black, the group continued to creep along the path. Within minutes the spears that had lined the path disappeared. This, however was of no comfort. It was obvious the path lead deeper into goblin territory, and, infact, even now, hoarse cries and woops echoed off the branches from ahead. No attack came for several minutes, however, and the group was able to progress swiftly closer to the cheers, which, infact, had become a terrible sounding, pulsating chant. Finally, the light of a clearing shone ahead. It was most certainly the origin of the chants. Carefully, the group crept closer to the clearing, until they had come close enough to see what was the cause of all the cheering. A host of at least 30 goblins crowded around a risen mound. Their gravely voices rang, and their rusty spears shook as they cheered for the figure who stood upon it. It was a goblin....or so it seemed, though he was much bigger than the rest. His skin was black and marked with purple and white paint. From his loincloth dangled countless, whitened bones. In one claw he held high a cleaver. Its silver surface gleamed and shimmered in the sunlight. The other clutched a wooden staff, draped with beads and bones, and crowned with a skull. None of this was quite as imposing, however, as the great skull that completely hid his face and head. Four great horns rose forth from it. The two in the center rose like pointed spires, while the outer two spiraled to the side. The sockets were empty, but glowed with a sinister red light.
Beyond the goblins and their apparent leader rose a 30 foot cliff wall. Several cracks and tunnels can be seen delved into its smooth, stone surface, and huddled about the tunnels are several (5) huts.
None see the group, but that wont last long with them standing on the path at the edge of the clearing. A decision must be made, and quick. There IS time to run back down the path, of the decision is to not fight. Of course you could also slink into the brush.....or charge into the fray.....do what you will.
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:26:35.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Derak
Derak took the two goblins out, the first kill depriveing him of his sword. Derak didn't use his fist very often in battle but he had forgotton how powerful he can be (even though it was just a goblin). He watched as the fleed off into random places into the woods, like cockroaches in the light. He stepped on the goblin that had his sword imbedded in its side and yanked it out with a quick qush of blood from the goblin. He had become quite bloody in the past battles. Based on the goblins fleeing, Derak let them be. Every living creature deseveres another day to fight. For Derak would hope for the same mercy if the time every came for him.
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:26:01.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Mahuo
Mahou's eyes beamed as she watched the last goblim fall before her. her slender fingures where still curled around the arch of the bow as the beast fell leaving her view clear to Damien. Mahou tilted her head back in satisfaction and housed her bow back on her shoulders.
Glancing about with her Hazel eyes she frowned at the sight of the other Goblins leaveing. "Where are they all going? we didn't even get a chance to question any of them about what's down this path." Mahou grummbled as she moved towards the bushes in search for her little animel friend. Mahou paused only briefly as Damien passed her and muttered his thanks. a smirk played acros her lips for a moment and she offered him a wink before getting back to her search.
"Gemi, come on we gotta go after them... we don't have time to play around." Mahou called ducking down a bit and moveing into the bushes to find Gemi.
(sorry that was so short i was out of town for the weekend and wanted to post quickly)
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:18:21.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Damien
The spear-lined path into the forest proved most interesting indeed, as after a short while of journeying down that blasted road, a pack of hooting, jittering goblins bearing rusted swords and short spears poured forth upon their group.
“Perhaps they are guarding the leaf?” Damien asked nobody in particular as he drew his rapier, uttered the command to activate it’s frigid enchantment, and set his stance to fight. From the hilt to the slender tip of the thin blade, frost spread, like a tide crashing against the shore. His feet shifted into the familiar stance of a nimble fencer, and he prepared himself.
Almost immediately, he was beset by two goblins, and though he was aware that their weapons were capable of harming him through his thin leather armor, he was amused by how quickly he was able to dispatch the pair. By using sweeps of the slender blade and quick thrusts to keep them at bay, he savored the victory all the more when they tried to leap in and harm him.
The first goblin he simply ran through, his icy blade bursting forth from the backside of the small attacker, shearing through organs and innards like a knife through paper. He had skillfully blocked and deflected by the talented bard. His counterstrike impaled the goblin, dropping it to the ground.
His second foe, he gracefully outmaneuvered, stepping outside the wild swings of the goblin, and, with a deft lunge, shoved his slender sword through the side of the torso, blade entering and exiting the rib cage smoothly. Damien lifted his leg, planted his boot on his slain foe, and pushed, freeing his sword, which he whipped to the side to point at the ground. His own display of victory, and one earned with ease over the unskilled goblins.
From behind, he heard a sound, alerting him of another presence, though too late for him to react. His best chance to avoid harm, he twisted quickly, trying to bring his rapier up to bear, but saw that he was saved when an arrow plunged into it’s ugly face, snapping back it’s head and dropping it in a heap. Looking towards where the shaft had been launched from, he saw the satyr, Mahou, smiling at him. Though he hated to show signs of cheer, he truly felt relieved that the strange creature had struck down the goblin, and he smiled slightly in return. The smile was fleeting, however, and he whirled around to look over the battlefield once more.
The goblins had been routed by the traveling party, fleeing down towards where they had come from, back into the darkness. Stepping up to one of the small beasts he had slain, Damien wiped the blood from his sword upon the tattered clothing that was shrouding the goblin’s form, and dispelled the enchantment’s chill, returning it to his sheath with a hiss.
“A simple victory. Hardly a heroic feat, but one that comes upon all who journey. We are uninjured,” Damien said, failing to notice that the monk was bleeding from an injury, and speaking to nobody but himself. “but we have yet to find this leaf and return for our reward.”
Speaking up, the bard toned his voice to the melodic tone he used when singing or reciting poetry, but also sharpened it with a razor’s edge. “Onward. For what we know, this leaf is miles from here. What we do know, however, is that time passes while we stand idle and wait.” Giving his raven-colored cloak a great flourish that ruffled in the air, he turned and walked towards the satyr. Passing her, he uttered a barely audible few words from his mouth, but loud enough for Mahou to hear.
“Thank you.”
With that, Damien was on his way, once again leading the group into the daunting forest, unafraid.
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:16:59.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Teros
Teros was happy that they had chosen the "scary" path, however he knew that he couldn't let that get in the way with his senses.
He moved down the path, paying more attention than neccissary to a possible ambush. However he started finding harder and harder to concentrate with the little kender acting so..well..active. Just as he seemed to put his guard down, snarls erupted behind him. He reacted quickly by drawing his sword. He was lucky that he reacted so quickly, because soon the goblin was on him. Seeing it was a goblin he almost laughted. Almost effortlessly he snapped the stick that he was using as a spear in half. But by not following up with an attack, he recieved a wack to the knuckles. Still, he took his time with this fool, blocking his attacks with something that might have once been called a sword. Shaking his head he cut off the arm of the goblin, spraying some black blood on his clothes. His eyes got big and looked at the goblin with contempt. "You..you bled one me you bastard!!!" he said as he finished it off. He turned around to see the remains of the battle. Watching as the goblins ran off.
The monk made yet another good point. So Teros spoke up. "Following them is a waste of time. Let them come again, maybe this time they'll learn faster." With this he looked down at the kender, who seemed to be getting closer to him. He just smiled and motioned for them to carry on.
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:16:32.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Vilyamar
((Why am I ALWAYS the one to get hurt?!?!))
The party walked cautiously down the dirty path. The scent of pines and other things not so readily recognized hung heavily in the air, as if a blanket had been draped about them.
All too suddenly, Gemmi, the badger, began to growl and then leapt out of its companions arms and jumped into the brush, snarling and growling. The tense air became thick enough to slice in half with a swipe of Derak's sword.
Soon, a large group of goblins came out into view, all wielding rusty, unkempt weapons whether they be spears or swords. Battle erupted between the two parties.
Unfortunately, one of the little buggers managed to creep up behind the half-elven monk, though how he knew not, possibly the sounds of battle had masked its prescence. A not too skilful throw of its spear landed him a cut of his leg and a sharp sting of punishment for not being awares. His master would have been very disappointed, this was the second wound he had recieved in as many days. He wondered if the gods (HINT HINT WINK WINK) were picking him.
Clenching his teeth against the pain, he muttered the words of magic which activated the runes on his nunchaku. Whipping them around at a second goblin who had attempted an attack, a flash of fire left the goblin's head blacker than before and had it dead on the ground. The other goblin backed and fled at its partner's demise.
Grimacing, Vilyamar looked around at the end of the battle, seeing nothing else to be done, as he could not run very far to catch the fleeing goblins with the gash on his leg. He bent down and removed yet another cloth strip from his pack and, using some water to clean off the wound, bandaged it.
"Damn little bugger cut me..." He grumbled, unhappy about a poor performance. He should not have been surprised so easily, but he paid for his complacency. With the gash bandaged, he went to the main part of the group.
"Perhaps we should pursue them. They are goblins, no good can come of their existence." He suggested. "I just fear that this side-tracking may take too much time from our quest, and it may prove all the harder to reach this leaf. I leave this matter up to you to decide."
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:10:24.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Elandor
Walking behind Damien Elandor took a good look at the poles with skulls that lined the path. Some were decorated nicely with big feathers and Elandor wondered where the creatures were that did this nice piece of art, and why they weren't here admiring their work.
It seemed that the 'artists' were near for after a quick escapade by Gemi a small band of Goblins jumped on the path. Suddenly realizing that the skulls had been placed not as a warning but as a display of power Elandor's appreciation of the skulls dropped fully.
"So, you're wanting my skull on a pole to then, ey?" he whispered while he shoved the hoopak from under his belt, where it had been hanging, and placed it firmly in his two hands. Readying himself by trampling his feet in excitement he added: "Well, I've got your pole already, so come and get it!"
Normally no master in face-to-face combat Elandor used the rage of the small humanoid and his own reflexes to get an advantage in this fight. Tripping the goblin he handed it the pole it had wanted, with a sickening crack of the creature's spine. His own opponent down the little kender had time to look around. He saw that the other members of his group didn't have a hard time fending off the goblins. What concerned him though was the fact that several of the ugly things got away. He didn't like the idea of them running home to mommy, or (as his imagination took a run with him) the muscled raging BARBARIAN mommy, with sharp pointy teeth and a deadly battle-axe.
Just to make sure, he stayed close Teros, reasoning that such a big strong man would distract the savage mother that would be avenging her children's death from the smaller beings in the group.
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:10:05.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Battle On The Path
Hesitantly, the group crept cautiously down the thin, spear and skull lined trail. (Single file, Front to back-Damien, Elandor, Teros, Vilyamar, Derak, Mahuo). The words of the monk was still settling on there minds. The only way to accomplish anything was through risk, and besides, this could lead to the leaf.....even though this wasn’t really a forest.
Suddenly, the soft cracking of a twig twitched in Mahuo’s sensitive ears. Her head snapped to the right, where she had heard it. Only a veil of thick brush could be seen, but Gemmi began to growl, and, before any could stop him, tore into the brush. The party stopped, fingering their weapons, and listening for a clue to the wolverines target. It came, within seconds. A shrill shriek split the air, drowned by the savage snarling of the little monster...Gemmi. Before the group could react to the battle their animal friend had aroused, The brush to both their left and right rustled, and spewed forth what could only be assumed as the makers of the path. Goblins, over a dozen. Their sweaty, skin ranged from muddy green to a piney black, and was marked with scarring and yellow paint. Jagged and rusty rings, bars and spikes jutted gruesomely through their long ears, noses, and brows. Filthy yellow fangs snapped at the air, dribbling in saliva. In their long, skinny arms were crude spears and jagged swords. Gravely shouts, and ferocious snarling could still be heard, marking the whereabouts of Gemmi.
Without hesitation, and accompanied by harsh shouts in goblin, the filthy beasts leapt forward in a crude combat display. Rusty swords swung simply as hard as skinny arms could muster, and spears jabbed at anything that moved.
Teros stood in what would come to be the very center of the fray. The first goblin leapt savagely at him, thrusting its sharpened spear without remorse. The desert warrior was too quick though, and, with a quick sidestep and a downward swipe, cut the spear in two with his two handed, gleaming blade. Immediately the goblin swiped the shaft at Teros, smacking his knuckles, while whipping out a dirty, serrated sword. This time it plunged at him with the blade, but once again the agile man from the south was quick enough to sidestep. And again his blade swiped down, only this time, it cut through the outstretched, green arm of the goblin. Black blood sprayed forth, splattering Teros’ worn clothing, and the beast screeched hideously, but not for long. The great blade of the warrior plunged through the paint marked forehead, cutting the screech short, and thrusting out the other side.
Once ahead of Teros, now to his left, Elandor was nearly quivering with excitement. A goblin charged him, howling with lust, and swinging his blade like it was an axe for a tree. The kender was ready, however, and, hopping out of range of the wildly swinging blade, poked his hoopak like a spear into the shoulder of the goblin. Rearing back with a snarl, and gripping his wound, the goblin eyed the kender with wild, yellow eyes, before charging back for more. He certainly got it. His rage was too high, and his swing too hard. The kender ducked nimbly below it, and the goblin kept going, until he had nearly spun completely around. Using this chance, Elandor grabbed his ankles, and flipped him on his stomach, before plunging his hoopak, like a flag of victory, ended the battle.
On Teros’ other side, Vilyamar had been assaulted from the opposite side of the path. The goblin first hurled his spear. The shaft flew through the air, plunged through the mossy colored robes, and sliced the monks leg, before sticking into the ground. Gritting his teeth, the half breed pulled forth his nunchuku from his sash, and hissing the language of magic, activated the enchantment, sending bolts and ripples of blue energy on one flail, while the other flowered in orange flame. As he did this, another goblin lunged at him from behind, but his monkish reflexes were ready. With a spinning sidestep, he brought the spinning flail into a whirling arc, smashing down upon the back of the goblins stringy haired skull. Flames engulfed the goblins tarish colored head, but it didn’t matter, the beast lay face down, unmoving. Seeing this, the first goblin backed up, hesitantly.
Derak had been beside the monk as the battle erupted, and had eagerly drawn his huge, broad bladed bastard sword from his back. Now THIS was a battle he could enjoy. Two goblins charged him, side by side, gripping their rust covered blades tightly. Of course, the reach of the big man was much longer than theirs, and before they could get to him, he swung his blade hard. The blade cut deep into the flank of the goblin on the right, and got wedged like an axe in a tree. The bite was so deep, however, that the goblin dropped his blade and with only a disgusting gurgle, fell, dead. Deraks blade, however, remained imbedded in the beast. He hadn’t time to withdraw it, the other was upon him. Its jagged blade deflected off the shoulder plate of his scale male with a loud ‘Tang’. Letting go of his swords handle, the big, grubby man acted on instinct. With a mighty hook, his club like fist cracked the jaw of the goblin, sending it sprawled out on the forest floor.
On the end of the fray, only a few feet from Derak, Mahuo was forced into battle without her furry little comrade. A rather long armed, green goblin charged her, screaming with fury. The deadly spear flew from its grubby hand, over Mahuo’s head, and bounced off a tree. Skillfully, her bow was out and notched. Before the goblin could make it to her, an arrow plunged into its stomach. Grunting, the goblin halted in its tracks. Both hands went to the shaft, and it’s orange eyes fixed on Mahuo in surprise. The moment ended as a second shaft plunged into its neck, spraying black blood, and sprawling it on its back.
Meanwhile, on the total opposite side of the battle, near the kender, Damien was engaged in one on two combat. His blade was sheathed in ice, and he stood in the stance of a duelist, thrusting and swiping, keeping the uncertain goblins at bay. No goblin remains uncertain for long, and within seconds they were on the offensive. The first swiped viciously at the bard, who skillfully parried, while ducking the swing of the seconds. The first swung again, this time aiming for the bards face, an upward parry, however, left the goblins entire body vulnerable. With a scorpion like lung, the ice caked rapier was sticking out the goblins back, who, with a gasp, collapsed. Perhaps this was the remaining goblins chance, but if so, he didn’t take it. He stood, watching his comrade writhe on the ground, until Damiens blade was pointed at him. Snapping back into the battle, the goblin attacked, swinging wildly, and out of control. Taking advantage of the lack of fundamentals, Damien sidestepped, and drove his blade through the side of the goblins torso. The goblin dropped his blade, before the black boot of Damien knocked it on its side, where it was writhe until death. Suddenly, but too late, the bard realized there was a third goblin, who, creeping from behind, lunged forward with a spear that would have skewered Damien, if an arrow hadn’t snapped its ugly head back, dropping it. Following the direction the arrow had flew from, the bard saw the Satyr, grinning prettily. Bow in hand.
Witnessing the quick downfall of their companions, all onlooking goblins turned and fled either down the path, or into the brush. Gemmi reappeared. His face and claws dripping black. ahead, down the path, shouts and commotion could plainly be heard in foul, gravely voices.
(Vilyamar took 5 hp)
Posted on 2006-09-04 at 19:09:28.
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