An introduction, thereof: (some gore)
Posted: Sat Jul 28, 2007 11:06 am
The denizens of a particular house, deep in the woods outside of the cityscape, and farmland was home to some ten vampiric creatures. Who preyed on passing strangers, and some farmers from time to time. They'd sentinels - stupid looking ghouled men to serve them.
But this night, when the moon's sliver is so slender that it could pass unnoticable brought new denizens. Some eight of them, in total. In mantles, and hoods, and wearing thick leather armor wound about them. Of long-gloves, and boots - carrying weaponry. In two small, four figured units. One that consisted of a platinum zweihander carrier, a large brass-shield carrier, a silver-white flute (or appears to be, from a vampire's perspective) and a larger figure carrying a massive blue-gray hammer.
The other 'team' consisted of a figure carrying a mithril curved broadsword, a figure with golden longstaff, a figure carrying twin thick iron rods, and a figure carrying a massive bronze-wood composite warbow.
And when the two descend it is pandemonium. There is flying bronze-hafted arrows that leave two corpses on the lawn. A window shattered by a flying pike; that leaves a dead sentries hand. And when the vampires exit --
A battle takes place. There is slick-lines of blood arcing in the air, zweihander and mithril cleave bodies. One vampire is crushed under the weight of a mighty hammer. There are broken limbs, too. And in the end? There are vampiric bodies laying about in different states of dismemberment.
But, lo and behold - some live, groaning. And it is then the figure with the silver-flute slips forward ahead of the pack. And it is pointed at the remainder injured vampires - as a jet of blue-white flame erupts. Turning them to ash, suddenly. Blackened skeletons are remnants of this fight.
A figure exits the woods - wearing white robes, with dark navy tabard - with a white circle insignia over the heart. The cowled figure raises a ringed hand, and speaks in sonorous voice, of heavy weight, and strong reverberation - to the eight other leather-clad figures.
"Leave a reminder. Nail the leader's blackened skull to the door. Once that is finished, begone my servants and rest."
The eight turn, as if one, and kneel infront of the cowled figure. Hands to their hearts. Silent nods - simultaneous - before the zweihander carrying figure nails a skull to the door. And then, the eight retreat into the woods, swiftly in comply.
"This land, might be a good place to live. It is quite beautiful."
A wistful sort of spoken-thought, and then, the cowled figure too -- is gone.
But this night, when the moon's sliver is so slender that it could pass unnoticable brought new denizens. Some eight of them, in total. In mantles, and hoods, and wearing thick leather armor wound about them. Of long-gloves, and boots - carrying weaponry. In two small, four figured units. One that consisted of a platinum zweihander carrier, a large brass-shield carrier, a silver-white flute (or appears to be, from a vampire's perspective) and a larger figure carrying a massive blue-gray hammer.
The other 'team' consisted of a figure carrying a mithril curved broadsword, a figure with golden longstaff, a figure carrying twin thick iron rods, and a figure carrying a massive bronze-wood composite warbow.
And when the two descend it is pandemonium. There is flying bronze-hafted arrows that leave two corpses on the lawn. A window shattered by a flying pike; that leaves a dead sentries hand. And when the vampires exit --
A battle takes place. There is slick-lines of blood arcing in the air, zweihander and mithril cleave bodies. One vampire is crushed under the weight of a mighty hammer. There are broken limbs, too. And in the end? There are vampiric bodies laying about in different states of dismemberment.
But, lo and behold - some live, groaning. And it is then the figure with the silver-flute slips forward ahead of the pack. And it is pointed at the remainder injured vampires - as a jet of blue-white flame erupts. Turning them to ash, suddenly. Blackened skeletons are remnants of this fight.
A figure exits the woods - wearing white robes, with dark navy tabard - with a white circle insignia over the heart. The cowled figure raises a ringed hand, and speaks in sonorous voice, of heavy weight, and strong reverberation - to the eight other leather-clad figures.
"Leave a reminder. Nail the leader's blackened skull to the door. Once that is finished, begone my servants and rest."
The eight turn, as if one, and kneel infront of the cowled figure. Hands to their hearts. Silent nods - simultaneous - before the zweihander carrying figure nails a skull to the door. And then, the eight retreat into the woods, swiftly in comply.
"This land, might be a good place to live. It is quite beautiful."
A wistful sort of spoken-thought, and then, the cowled figure too -- is gone.