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Topic: The Chakran Portal - Q/A
Subject: Eh
Why am I naked but not Geim? Didn't he fall in the sludge? And who says the sludge will corrupt us? Doesn't someone have a bottle of that purity stuff?
Also I updated my character sheet for you. 1 Feat, 1 1st level spell, and 1 2nd level spell.
Looking over my charactor, I could have sworn I had Frost on my sword.....but its not there  . Also I have some REALLY crappy armor. Guess I know what to do in the next village. Or perhaps...what kind of armor is Wulfs?
Also...while Alyssia is off getting his sword, Draven will inspect his clothing and armor. Does the sludge appear melevolent? Or just a biproduct of the disease? Like puss. Puss is gross but it's just a bi product of infection.
Posted on 2008-04-29 at 17:04:18.
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Topic: The Chakran Portal - an Adventure in Audalis
Subject: The Fury and Flames
A thousand maws snapped and slobbered, and their pestilence strained with a earning to spread. To devour. To destroy. A thousand eyes rolled with madness. Familiar eyes. And the flames licked and lapped and flickered and danced their macabre dances.
The fire burst suddenly into a flood of brilliant, soothing light. It’s caress swept over him, and lifted him on high. The weightless freedom of disembodiment succumbed to the imprisonment of flesh and blood, and the discomforts of living. His eyes snapped open suddenly. The moonlight caught the reflective, golden iris, and his eyes glimmered eerily. The trees swayed overhead and a gentle breeze swept through his hair and over his skin. Far too much skin… The smell of smoke and burning flesh hit his nostrils. He rolled his head slightly and realized it was rested against flesh. Snapping his gaze directly overhead, he peered into Alyssia’s worried face. His head rested in her lap. He was….alive.
His wits were quick to return, as well as his demeanor. Snapping to a sitting position, he patted his exposed body down, almost frantically. Glancing to side, he found his armor and clothing in a pile, beside hers. The wrath was twisted into his face when he returned his gaze to her was terrible, and his eyes were alight with golden fire.
She wore only a long, stained white undershirt, but it sufficiently covered her, unlike him. Even so, she was very beautiful. Her skin was like smooth ivory in the moonlight, and her exposed legs long, and elegant. Her peculiar white hair shone silver, and hung over curved breasts her undershirt did little to veil.
The flames and the fury that welled within him were so great that he raised his tattooed arms, grasped the air, took a deep breath, and fought to contain himself. She had brought him back. Was that a good thing? What had happened? He had hesitated…let death take him. Why? Why now? Never before. Never had he hesitated. It was as he feared. The fire. The hate. It must be fading. Images of torment flooded his mind and he tried to shake them away. There was something wrong with the fate he saw. Something that didn’t go according to his bargain….Ah!!! So many questions!
“Grishnak.”
He glared at her, then glanced down at his exposed body. Should he feel shame? Embarrassment? He didn’t. But the scar... One hand went to his chest and ran gently over it.
“You hid me from the others?”
His voice was softer now. A low rumble.
With her response he let out an exhausted sigh and dropped to his knees. Wearily he ran his hands over his face and through his hair, which fell back in a dark veil over his face. He had reached his limit and could feel no more. Whatever had happened, it was his own fault. His next words were broken. Forced like stone over gravel.
“Please…retrieve my blade.”
Posted on 2008-04-29 at 04:11:42.
Edited on 2008-04-29 at 04:12:46 by Valimar
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Also
I've updated for everyone who has done the same for me  .
Jozan and Grugg, PLEASE post this week.
Posted on 2008-04-29 at 03:13:07.
Edited on 2008-05-01 at 14:31:09 by Valimar
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Topic: Feeding The Undead
Subject: The Coming Storm
“Are we moving?”
Vandervoort stared at Sergeant Johnson, who glanced back and forth between the little fire haired scientist who had been given orders like he ran the place only moments ago, and this tall, balding man with the cold, blue eyes.
Suddenly all three of the scientists hand radios crackled to life, and spoke like the Fates.
“Vandervoort.”
The voice was Schafer’s back at the van.
“The H2O you just sampled read off the charts on the RMPD. Get some samples of plantlife from within the water. Reeds or something.”
Scientists and soldiers alike turned to scan the stream like it was a lava flow. Private Clayton even hopped back. There were no reeds or grasses growing near the stream. The river bed was one solid stone platform.
“Perhaps we should follow the river.”
Dr Carrell pushed his glasses back up his nose.
“I don’t understand how this water can be contaminated, when Ground Zero is down stream, beyond Fox Falls. It may be best if-”
The scream that tore through the air was unmistakably human, and entirely terrified. A jumble of incoherent words which melted together into a haunting wail of anguish. Vandervoort’s skin crawled. What the hell? Echoing his thoughts, Johnson choked.
“What the hell?”
A splash sounded downstream. The opposite direction as the scream had come from, but startling enough to snap the 13 beams of light towards it. The two green orbs that reflected in the flashlights caused more then one man to nearly jump out of his skin. It was a deer…Vandervoort thought. And yet never had he thought that the sight of a deer would become so horribly engraved in his nightmares.
The beast was a stag. 13 points, if one bothered to count. The creatures body was sunken in, and the ridges of ribs and spin and hip stood out on nearly furless, black grey skin. It’s stomach, however, was grotesquely bloated. In the unsteady light, something hung from it’s stomach, swaying with it’s stiff, staggering gate. Yes, it was moving. It had never been still infact. From the moment their lights focused on it, the creature was stumbling towards them. Head lowered and mouth gaping open. A swollen tongue the color of regurgitated vegetation hung from it’s mouth, and a gurgling, sound similar to what would happen if you tried to blow a trumpet filled with syrup, crept from deep within it’s throat. It was now maybe 60 feet away. Johnson was screaming for his men to shoot it. They did, in unison. 8 of 9 darts sunk into the creatures neck and shoulders. Idiots….even if they wanted to take it alive, that dose would kill a bull.
The men were backing up, but of course the stone wall lay only 10 feet behind them. Dr Mosher had even scampered 5 feet up the hill. The beast wasn’t slowing down. Not that it was moving fast of course, but it wasn’t very far away either. Suddenly a wave of decay washed over their nostrils. The stench of rotting flesh and worse, something like a cross between a ruptured stomach and diarrhea. Vandervoort very nearly emptied his own stomach.
“Oh my-”
Carrell’s exclaimed surprise was washed away with a flood of vomit that sprayed through his fingertips as if he was trying to force his stomachs contents back in.
“The smell!”
Yeah. Now the smell of human vomit was thrown into the mix. However, Vandervoort’s blood had suddenly run very, very cold. He realized that the deer was downwind….
“What do we do?”
Johnson answered by lifting his pistol and firing three rounds at the stag. An antler shattered and two holes appeared in it’s shoulder and where it’s neck met it’s collar bone. The gurgling sound became a wet whistle, but the beast didn’t’ flinch or slow down…
Johnson raised his gun to fire again.
Stiff, cold fingers gripped Vandervoort’s sleeve suddenly. It was Mosher. Wild eyed and frantic.
“What the Hell is happening, Luke?”
Posted on 2008-04-29 at 02:15:22.
Edited on 2008-04-29 at 11:32:15 by Almerin
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Topic: Feeding The Undead
Subject: Broken Windows and Truckses
Van Kirk Apartments,
240 North Mainstreet, Herkimer,
Upstate New York
September 14th, Sunday, 9:50 pm
It was dark when Melina started up the family Jeep Wrangler and pulled onto the empty streets of Mohawk, New York. Of course it was almost ten O’clock on a Sunday night. One couldn’t expect there to be much going on tonight. Except of course, for college parties. They were always going on. In fact the college campus that the village of Mohawk’s neighbor boasted went by the nickname of “Harvard On The Hill.”, because for one, it was located atop a massive hill that overlooked the entire Mohawk Valley, and secondly, it was a community college with high amounts of financial aid, and very low expectations. The makings of a massive party school.
Thankfully for her, Melina and Rob lived in the more peaceful, cleaner, and just plain prettier town of Mohawk, on Firman Street. Right behind Jarvis Highschool. It’s funny really, how the two towns are separated. The only noticeable barrier between the two was the bridge that spanned the Mohawk river that she turned onto. Beyond that she was in Herkimer, and passing a Dennys on her right and Skinner Auto Sales on her left.
Sitting at a red light, just two blocks from the Van Kirk Apartment building where her sister was currently getting into trouble at, she spotted a surprising, (and unmissable) scene. To her right was the exit to the Throughway, Interstate 90. Her eyes widened at the site of the 18 wheeler laying on it’s side, baring the highway. The flashing lights of police and ambulance lit the area, and a train of vehicles sat behind the vehicle, unable to get off the highway. In the glare of the headlights she couldn’t make out what had happened. (NO! This is NOT the same scene as what Father Bryson sees. What he sees is in North Herkimer, and this is South West Herkimer.)
The light turned green and she was on her way.
++++++ ++++++ ++++++
This town was going to drive her crazy before her week was up. She could be sure of that. There was simply nothing to do. If she had a vehicle she could head up to the City of Utica, not 20 minutes away. But even then, what was there to do there? Leaning against the building (the only trees are on the church yard to your right and people are currently standing outside of it…) and blowing smoke rings, Jetta let her eyes glance over her surroundings. Directly across the street from her, she was surprised to see a Tattoo Shop! A big red, neon sign proclaimed that the Sacred Eagle was still open, and beside it, a smaller, blue one let her know that tarot cards could also be read inside. Down the street to her left were a series of bars, and on the right of the tattoo shop sat an MnT bank. Across from that, and to her right was a church! Not the usual collection of buildings found in one place!
She noticed then that a pair of police cars were slowly making their way up mainstreet towards her. Narrowing her eyes, she watched as the two vehicles stopped and a pair of officers got out of each car, and subsequently wen’t to different sides of the street, and disappeared within. What was going on? Already she could see the lights of ambulance and police only a couple blocks behind the bank. She had heard of some disease outbreak in the animals around here. Rabies or something. Could it have to do with that? Or was this little town just that out of control? As if to answer her question, an explosion of glass suddenly erupted from the apartment buildings first floor. The corner of a table was jutting through the broken window, pulling half a cream colored Victorian curtain with it.
With the glass barrier gone, the screams from within flowed into the street.
“-ay back! Get the gun! Woah, Woah!.”
A strange, gurgling snarl she could not identify rose and fell between the yelling voice. That of a mans. A heavy, dull thud sounded once. Twice. Then a scream tore through the air. Pain was etched on the mans voice and he basically yodeled.
“Shadow! What is your problem!?”
That horrible snarl responded, and it sounded as if it was between clenched teeth. The man screamed again in a quavering voice.
“You bitch where are you? God! Shadow! Why?”
Glancing down the street, Jetta could see that none of the police had returned from the two buildings they had entered. However, a forest green, Jeep Wrangler rolled past them and slowed to a halt before her. Only a moment later, a young woman, perhaps in her thirties, got out. She was pretty, with the olive skin and dark hair of either a Latino or Mediterranean, and her dark eyes peering up towards a window on the third floor. Or at least they were before she heard the screams through the broken window….
Posted on 2008-04-29 at 01:25:02.
Edited on 2008-04-29 at 01:26:04 by Valimar
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: map
Eh, the maps are not very efficient. I think they would only succeed in getting everyone more confused. Also I can't seem to be able to save the image to post it here....Your all free to look at Herkimer through Google Maps if you wish. Just type in Herkimer NY. It won't be hard to find North Mainstreet, or any other road for that matter. I promise.
Posted on 2008-04-29 at 00:06:43.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Ok
My update is delayed because its been finals week. Since it's also finals for most of you, I figure this isn't such bad timing after all. No Glory you don't need to update yet. And Grugg I told you that you could pick between teh Church, Bar, and Party and write yourself in.
Posted on 2008-04-28 at 21:45:53.
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Topic: The Chakran Portal - Q/A
Subject: The Sword
I'm sorry for any misunderstandings, but for the sake of clarity and for the fact that I have OCD, I wanted to run a little description of Draven's sword.
I dunno how it looks like it's part rapier  . The sword is utterly massive. Easily matching a claymore in size. It is only slightly curved, as described, and it only has a blade on one edge. It's a Dai-Katana. Aka really friggen big Katana with a wide blade. It's black and actually appears to have been made from Onyx, and along the spine of the blade are runes that...I don't know if any of you would recognize, I'll run it by Almerin. The Runes are frost laden, and the blade almost seems to have a presence about it...
I only describe it in entirety for RP purposes . Draven's sword is very important to him, as you will find out.
Posted on 2008-04-28 at 04:16:50.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Map
I have concidered a map and have even looked for one. Not hard mind you but I did look. If there is an easy to read one that is available, or if you know where I might find one, then I shall get one up by the time you guys really need one.
Posted on 2008-04-25 at 03:39:48.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Haha
Yep we've got a Grugg. Don't know how long we'll have him before we've got a Zombie Grugg...But well see. Anyways posted for you Vorrioch.
I do want to apologize to everyone for the delays in updates. I was too sick on Sunday Monday or Tuesday to really do much of anything, and now Ive got huge papers to write by Friday (its the last week of school), and I work till 11 every night. But Im trying!
Posted on 2008-04-24 at 18:08:39.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead
Subject: Lights in the Distance and a Feeling on The Wind
Christ Episcopal Church,
North Mainstreet, Herkimer,
Upstate New York
September 14th, Sunday, 9:50 pm
With their Priests blessings, the congregation stood to leave with the usual soft jumble of conversation. People shook hands and greeted one another as they made their way between the pews and into the center isle. Father Bryson had strolled by already and had opened the heavy wooden double doors, letting the cool night air wisp within the sanctuary.
The Christ Episcopal Church was situated on the north end of North Mainstreet, on the corner of a one way street. Situated across from a large, MnT Bank, and with an old, brick apartment complex (Known as Van Kirk) to the left and a big county office building to it’s left and behind it, the old, cathedral styled church was like a little peaceful sanctuary. Big Cherry and Oak trees grew alongside it’s painted windows and rough hewn, stone walls, and in the soft breeze they were swaying stiffly. Autumn was quickly approaching. The sound of sirens could still be heard, and infact peering over the bank across the street, he could see the faint flashes of lights. He could make out the sound of both Police and Ambulance Sirens. Perhaps a block down. Those streets where entirely residential, with some lawyer offices.
The first one out the door was Old Mrs. Randerville. Somehow she was always the first, despite her bent form and shuffling gate. She peered up at the priest and smiled.
“A good sermon sir. And that guest speaker is such a nice young man…True what he says I think too.”
Moving aside, she let the stream of people pass and continued speaking between farewells and handshakes between Father Bryson and his Congregation.
“Boy I hope everything’s ok.”
She was staring at the dim of lights.
“Might be Mrs. Johanson. Might’a fell again. I tell you once your hip starts to go, that’s that. It’s terribly sad. And there’s something funny in the air tonight. My old bones can feel it.”
She was half talking to him and half talking to herself. Father Bryson was accustomed to this. The poor old woman had lost her husband nearly twenty years ago, and she had never recovered. She lived now right across the one way street, on the first floor of the big Van Kirk Apartment building. The Land Owner. A pudgy Turk who’s name started with an L and was far too long for Bryson to remember was kind enough to never charge her rent. At this point she didn’t have long to go herself.
Following the congregation was the guest speaker. Alan Moore, a young Pastor from Maine who was traveling down along the Northeast Coast, to “Get a feel for the different preaching styles”. He was a good man, it seemed. A bit too into the doom and gloom thing, but it was a common fact that Fire and Brimstone was a style that worked in these parts. Even if you didn’t agree with them.
“Father Bryson.”
The young man held his hand out to be shook.
“I want to thank you for having me. Many people have taken up your offer of donuts and coffee and remain inside. Do you do this every Sunday Evening? The refreshments that is.”
The young man noticed the sirens then and peered over the Priest.
“Wonder what’s going on there..”
Posted on 2008-04-24 at 18:01:21.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Haha!
A good post indeed! He's an interesting charactor. If he lives long enough, he may turn out having an interesting story.
And Sorry for the delay guys. Im still sick but today I'm going to work so when I get home I'm going to update for you!
I really wish Skari didn't drop and Jozan would post..it would make two extra charactors! I don't even know what to do about Jozan because I haven't heard from him despite PMing him. Prolly NPC him and see if hes picked up. Also, I may as well see if anyone wants to pick up Skari's charactor.
Posted on 2008-04-23 at 19:24:39.
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Topic: The Chakran Portal - Q/A
Subject: Haha!
Thanks for the sword El  . I didn't really want to have to trudge back through that stuff.
Posted on 2008-04-23 at 03:45:58.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Haha
It's a real place too  . Everyplace I mention is.
Posted on 2008-04-23 at 03:42:16.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Almerin
I know I left you hanging a little on that opening post...or so it seems. You do have several options though, and they come in the form of suggestion. Some options off the top of my head are....suggest investigating hear the church/take samples of the water/follow the water(which will take you away from the sounds of the dog)/suggest going back for the night/conversing and asking whatever questions you might have.
Sorry for the week long delay for you XD. Glad to have you with us now!
Posted on 2008-04-21 at 22:41:35.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead
Subject: The Forest
Forest off Route 5S, Herkimer
Upstate New York
September 14th, Sunday, 9:45 pm
Even the brilliant, white light cast by the headlights and spotlights of the Team’s vehicles did little to penetrate the darkness of the forest. If anything, the claw-like shadows and silhouettes of the trees autumn branches that swept slowly and loosely with the breeze only added to the unease that was clearly hanging over the troupe.
The wind carried sounds, or at least Dr Vandervoort thought it carried sounds he had never heard, nor could he identify. Moans? Cries?
“Anyone else think we should wait till morning?”
The voice belonged to a young doctor of science whom Vandervoort had met during their briefing. Professor Mosher worked as the director of the science wing at the New York University of Albany, and though he was young, as far as doctors go, he was a brilliant 29 year old and a true man of science. He was not however, one of the men fortunate enough to be carrying a gun.
“It doesn’t matter what we should do.”
Muttered sergeant William Johnson as he tossed a wrapped, cylindrical bundle from the back of his units camouflage military hummer to one of his 9 men. Hopping down onto the graveled road side and unslinging his 176B Tranquilizer Rifle from his shoulder he glanced at Mosher.
“You heard the briefing. At the rate this sickness is spreading the whole of upstate New York could be seeing it within the month. And we’ve been ordered to start tonight.”
Glancing over his own nine soldiers. Members of the three sixty first of the US Army, then straying his gaze over the remaining 4 assorted doctors and scientists as if they were also under his charge, he adds.
“So what you think doctor? Think people can catch it?”
Dr Mosher shrugged, running a hand through his wavy brown hair, and glanced at Dr Vandervoort.
“I can’t say anything for certain, but descriptions of infected animals are most perplexing. I’m uncertain as to whether half the descriptions are fantasized.”
“I agree with Doctor Mosher.”
Chimed in another of the teams scientists. Dr Carrell A short, man with curly, carrot orange hair and thick glasses. As he spoke he pushed them up on his nose and blinked into the vehicles headlights.
“This all sounds to me a form of Hydrophobia.”
He peered at the soldiers.
“Rabies. Upstate New York has one of the highest rates of Hydrophobia outbreaks in the United States. This year, we saw a near record number. The highest rate of Rabies cases in over 35 years.”
The little man flipped open a small, blue pocket notebook that he carried in his windbreaker, and glanced over it.
“And the symptoms coincide. Or seem to. An Awkward gate and slow clumsy movement. Senseless hostility. Appearing to be bloated or starved. Signs of the neurological deterioration and the inability to eat or drink!”
“What ‘bout the dude on TV that said his cow got attacked by a dog that looked like it had been dead for 3 weeks. Said damn skin was peeled back and it’s ribs were showing. Didn’t even try to scare it off cuz he said it was so damn horrifying. He just left. Left his damn cow.”
Dr Carrell stared at the man as if he was a child speaking out of turn.
“And you believe him?”
The Doctor laughed and turned back to the forest.
“Science. Gentlemen. This is not the eleventh century. Now lets get down to business. Clarke and Schafer. You two will man the Van. Keep your radio on. Channel 2; and be sure the Radio-Magnetic Partical Detector remains synced. We will need to know if we are passing into highly contaminated areas.”
With that, Doctor Carrell handed Doctor Vandervoot an instrument that looked similar to a curling iron without the cord. Vandervoot needed no explanation as to what this was of course. It was the Sensor for the RMPD. As they walked the cylindrical end would sample the air and relay to Clarke and Schafer, the amount of radioactivity in the air. Should they reach water, he could test it by dipping it, and he could open the cylander and place small samples of soil, or organic material within to test them for radioactivity. Carrell handed him and Mosher both hand radios as well.
“Keep us informed about potential hot spots. The sooner we get our samples, the sooner we can get back to the lab.”
Why the fire haired puke had been put in charge was anyone’s guess, but he was clearly reveling this. The scientists grabbed their plastic, cases that contained the vials for water and soil samples, along with the hypodermic syringes to be used on whatever living samples they might find; and the soldiers shouldered their weapons. The group was ready. Clarke and Shafer hopped into the back of the Field Van, which was essentially a mobile laboratory of it’s own, and the rest secured powerful flash lights to their heads, and the sides of their rifle, before heading towards the trees…
They were a group of 13 within the forest, but Vandervoot couldn’t help but realize they must sound like an entire army crunching through the autumn underbrush. How they would find any sort of live specimen tonight seemed anyone’s guess. Most likely this would be a two or three day operation. Get the soil and water samples tonight, study them in the lab (or the van), and spend the next day or so hunting.
They couldn’t hear a damn thing over there own footsteps, and soon enough, the headlights from the road disappeared. In the white beams of their own lights, the forest was a thick, confusing tangle. The trees were tall and twisted and the land was uneven. Vandervoot could tell they were walking into the mouth of a steep valley.
“We should come a stream that runs between two cliffs.”
Private Clayton. A young man with wild, blue eyes and close shaven, blonde hair said peering down at the map he carried.
“Guess it leads to a small waterfall called Fox Falls. Beyond it are the caves, but the whole area is pretty rugged.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
Muttered Mosher, trudging beside Vandervoot. They were now trying to keep their balance as they made their way down a steep hill. Using trees to brace themselves, and simply hoping that noone would trip or get stabbed in the eye with a stray branch. When they hit the bottom the party was surprised to discover they stood on stone. Lighting the area as best they could, it was discovered that this was natural slate. Flat and smooth and once the bed of a stream. Infact the hill they had made their way down now formed a three sided bowl around them. To their right a cement wall had been built into it, and out of a steel pipe flowed a wash of water, which streamed past them and beyond, following the path that was the slate floor of the valley.
Well at least they could hear themselves think now…and what was that sound? Vandervoot looked up, and Sergeant Johnson narrowed his eyes, listening. A howl. Or a bark. Something in between. Frantic. A dog? Coyote? The sound was on the wind, coming from there right. and it was difficult to tell how far away it was. Certainly not immediate facinity.
“Sounds like a dog..”
Private Clayton, still clutching his map, glanced at the compass on his watch.
“Theres a Lutheran Church that way. Less than a mile from here. One of those big stone ones. It’s got a cemetery and an elaborate Revolutionary War Memorial. Prolly the groundskeepers dog.”
The barking or howling, or whatever it was remained. Frantic, wild. The group listened for a moment. Then, one of the other soldiers. A man whos name Vandervoot had never caught, and who’s badge couldn’t be read at this angle hissed.
“What was that? Could have swore I heard a scream..”
The group tried to continue to listen, but the flood of water made it difficult to hear anything but the dog….
Posted on 2008-04-21 at 22:32:34.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Ughhh
Im sorry guys. I've been bed ridden with a stomach bug all day. I'm trying to write something up now but If i dont post it, its because i had to return to either the bed or the bucket ...
Posted on 2008-04-21 at 02:54:53.
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Topic: The Chakran Portal - an Adventure in Audalis
Subject: Out of Commision
‘A Cursed Hunter‘…..‘Or to die by the blade‘….’Dera’Vainne Irezsu’Dantes…’ And the blackness was all encompassing. Not light above nor below and the fall would be eternal. Eternal until the flames began to lick, and below writhed the mass of madness. Gibbering wordless, slobbering maws. Shadows who’s touch was plague. Tendrils of decay. Reaching, reaching upward as the descent continued. Closer and closer and the wild, shapeless masses were pocked with eyes, but they were eyes that could be recognized. Not all. Death is eternal and so too are it’s denizens. But so many eyes, gleaming with madness…seen before. Seen in life…and the shapeless sucking mouths came, hungrily, thirstily. Longing. Devourer or Hel? He could not be so sure…
He was unmoving when she got to him, and she could tell that he was dying. What had happened in the fight? Elessarae did not know this man but she had heard enough about him to know he was greatly renowned for his prowess in battle. And she could see in his golden eyes, that he was a being that never accepted defeat. And yet he had froze in battle. Just stopped fighting, and slipped away…Why?
Such questions however, were clearly better saved. Grabbing him and dragging his heavy corpse away from the tree and onto solid ground, she took a moment to inspect the damage. He was pale as wet snow and tendrils of blood were running from his mouth. He wasn’t breathing, but his heart was beating faintly.
He needed to be healed and cleansed of the plague that festered at the foot of the tree. Without hesitation, the Knight began unfastening his black, leather armor. Beneath his equally black clothing were soaked with the vile stuff. Withdrawing her dagger, she began to cut away his tunic, from the collar…
His chest was pale and well shaped from years of physical conditioning. Scrawled across his pecks and spiraling down under his clothing, black, knot work tattoos marred his smooth skin. This however, was not where her shock lay. The jagged mark that ran from beneath his right collar, and down across his chest was astonishing. A Scar? It smoldered like hot coals, but it was not hot to the touch. If it indeed was the result of a scar being healed, it was unlike any seen before. Scars weren’t supposed to burn…And morso, the would have been utterly fatal…
With a desparate cry, Alyssia landed on his body, covering the scar. Throwing the cloth back over it, she pleaded with Elessarae to let her handle this….
And he reached for Grishnak and realized it was not there…
Posted on 2008-04-20 at 20:05:06.
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Topic: The Chakran Portal - Q/A
Subject: *GASP*
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
0_0
Elessarae!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Not his clothes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*sigh*...
Almerin would you like to post the description or can I?
Posted on 2008-04-20 at 16:57:39.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Um..
You are allowed to post.....And I am updating Sunday and will REALLY need updates by then.
Except Al. Ive still not gotten to write him in. . Sorry Al! I just havent had the time. Still a full plate with school and working till 11. But have no fear because you AND YOU ALONE will have your deadline pushed back a couple days.
Posted on 2008-04-15 at 03:52:48.
Edited on 2008-04-15 at 04:05:56 by Valimar
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: GOOD LUCK EVERYONE!
And since I haven't said it yet, I would like to wish you all luck! If you die, don't take it personal! The odds are against you, and you'll just get to make another charactor! So dying doesn't boot you from the game! Once again, Good luck and I hope everyone has fun!
Posted on 2008-04-13 at 01:46:21.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Concerning Backgrounds
I don't really need any . It would have been nice to know where you all came from, and what sort of living you make and type of person you are, but this game isn't as RP dependant as others. In other words, what type of student you were in highschool won't make a difference to the DM once the zombies start flowing. For your own sakes, and enjoyment and ability to add to the story, you should have SOMETHING on your mind as to your history.
What I would like however, from everyone. Is a physical description. I already know what everyone is carrying on them, so thats good!
Any other questions? .
Posted on 2008-04-13 at 01:45:40.
Edited on 2008-04-13 at 01:46:08 by Valimar
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Um....
You can be at a bar as well. They serve food there you know. And by "YOU" I don't actually mean you, lol. Because YOU shall be busy doing other things.
Posted on 2008-04-12 at 23:59:06.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Lastly
The game begins. I shall be updating next Sunday at the latest. If everyone posts sooner then I may also.
It is true that not all of you have your stats finished. Just get them finished this week before my next update. What I need from you mostly is location. You can choose between the three locations I have Established. All three locations are on North Mainstreet, within 100 yards of one another.
I'm fairly confident that the opening post gave you adiquate explanation as to the current situation. None of you have even seen any of these sick animals, since the outbreak occured yesterday, and has...spread with extreme vigor. You are all aware of the news reports though.
As a Heads up, N. Mainstreet has a series of small bars, shops, and above them, apartments. When it becomes necessary, I will give you the details you need.
Almerin, check your PM'S.
If you like, you may post HERE where you are going to be, just so one another know, and that way you may be able to interact in your opening posts. Or you can simply sit there solo and reflect on your histories. But like I said, I need to know where you are, and I need your sheets finished if you are one of the people I have contacted.
Also keep in mind that if you don't post, your character does nothing.
Any further questions?
Posted on 2008-04-12 at 23:06:24.
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Topic: Feeding The Undead Q/A
Subject: Eh...
You guys made this either damn hard or damn easy for me to make an intro. I have like....zero info on your histories, and some of you don't even have descriptions! Nomatter. Like I said this either makes things easy or hard, and I choose Easy. I don't care why your in Herkimer, or where you come from! Your all here, and you'll be where I put you!
Muhahahaha!
Posted on 2008-04-12 at 21:27:56.
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