PDA

View Full Version : [M/R] Eternum: Of Gods and Demons



Death of Korzan
09-09-2012, 12:16 AM
Rated M/R for Blood and Gore, Sexual Content, Bad Language and other.



OOC (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=34398&p=1065396#post1065396)


http://i515.photobucket.com/albums/t354/TykeTAI/eternum.gif


Combrogia

“Oh for the God's sake will someone get me a status report?!” Boar skull yelled. A smaller figure, a 14 year old boy, considered a young man in Combrogi customs ran into the tent that held the hulking Governor.
“They're slaughtering us sir, warriors of pure brute force, we can't hold them!” The boy had tears streaming from his eyes, one of his arms was missing and bleeding, the red liquid rolled out of the ruined stump left behind and stained the fur skins that had been placed on the floor as 'carpeting'. “What do we do my lord?!” Boar skull looked into the pitiful eyes of the young teenager and cradled his head in his huge arms.
“Tell the men to retreat, we shall hide in the Forest, I will hold the way. Go.” Reaching for his Totem-pole, Boar Skull looked out at the Tent, only to be welcomed by the sound of war horns, the screams of dying men, accompanied by Feral roars, the clash of steel and the sound of running feet.

Stretching his arms out to the ground, Boar Skull closed his pale white eyelids and began to chant. Vines began to wrap out and entangle themselves first around his thick fingers, and then all over his arms, stopping just above his elbow. The Vines began to draw themselves out of the earth and soon they looked like snakes wrapping themselves around his arms. When formed, they had created a huge casing around his hand; Boar Skull stretched out his hands and 5 extremely sharp thorns shot out from each large, hard finger that had been created. “Lovely.”

The scene was horrific, the other tents were on fire and 5 huge men covered in odd looking armour stood, looking at the scene, drinking Combrogi mead looted from the bodies of those they had slain, and counting Imperium gold in their hands. Realising that the situation was hopeless, Boar Skull silently crept back into the undergrowth and began to make his way to the Rendezvous point he had set. None of the barbarians noticed he was there, but they had surely made an impact on the Combrogi, who they had noticed...

Boar Skull arrived at the Rendezvous point only to be met with combat, the last 70 of his men had been caught in a fight at this point. Swords clashed, hammers smashed and people died. There was no sign of the young boy from earlier, but Boar Skull had no time for the child other than to hope for the best. Leaping into combat, Boar Skull's glinting hands span wildly, catching armour and ripping it to shreds, giving a distraction that allowed his men to attack and fall back. A large enough gap was made and Boar Skull called the forest once more. Asking his most trusted men to guard him, Boar Skull closed his eyes and attuned himself with the wild. The Trees began to shake, and powerful thorns began to stretch around the enemy group, trapping them. Every time one of them would try to make a break for it out of the boundary, a sudden smack of a tree branch would push them back into the herd.

Eventually, the whole group of them were trapped, they would get out of it eventually, in an hour or so, but that would give Boar Skull enough time to get out of the Eastern Forest, which was now lost to an unlikely enemy...

Hercine

Hercules looked down at the map, his bright ozone coloured eyes glinting down at the papyrus map in front of him. A woman had given him it, that was all that he could remember. She felt repulsive, she angered Hercules when she had touched him, he felt the fury of Zeus and the hatred of Hades and the angst of all the minor Gods who had been pushed into the shadows by the grander, more powerful primary Gods. “We will attack here, and here.” He pointed to a rather large citadel, and a rather small mining and blacksmithing village. “By attacking this town we will cut off their military supplies and we can restock ours, then we shall hit the kingpin first, this land shall be Greek...” Hercules looked up into the sky, hoping his father was smiling down at him from the sky. “Someone get Leonidas for me, we have much to talk about!”

Namor and the City of Emor
The Legate stood, his arms crossed and his head facing the sea. The Coast was nice, the water was blue, but the Roman legion would not sit and wait whilst he watched his father's domain, time was of the essence. He took it upon himself to wake the troops, they had a long few days ahead of them, and an even longer few months to destroy the copycat Empire, and the fake Emperor they had in place.

The Emperor however, sat on a grand chair inside his home. Many servants catered to his needs, when a page burst through the door, his arm missing. He was only about 14, but he was tall, either Nord scum, or the blood of the Combrogi ran through his veins. “What is it page?” The Emperor barked, his second chin wobbling comically.
“My lord, a status report, Eastern Combrogia has been taken by the unknown warriors. It seems Mars has taken pity on me. The attack on Korzan was successful also my Emperor, he is apparently dead.” The Emperor sat up on these notes, his eyes locked with the young boys.
“What of the Governor?”
“I do believe he is alive my lord. But 430 Combrogian soldiers were murdered.”
“Any news from Hercine or Southern Namor?”
“None sir, the other enemies seem to have quietened down.”
“Not for long I do not think, this does not bode well.”
“Sir...a lady, she saved me.”
The Emperor looked at the boy, his face contorted with curiosity, and fear. “What did she say.”
“Nothing, she gave me this.” The Page pulled a black papyrus scroll out of his pocket, it was sealed with an ebony ring.

Your time is up, Emperor.
He has killed Odinsson, but now I must do my job
Things must be balanced, consider them so.
Continue your attack on the South if you must,
But killing such a pivotal member of History needs something equally important to happen to balance it.
Thanatos is gone, my son dealt with him, the plan is going ahead.
The souls have escaped and manifested once more, I think you know what I mean.
N


The scroll was signed with a large purple N. The Emperor's face was pale.
“Page...go...go and get me Decius. Round up any who he trusts, or anyone who wants to join him. I must talk to him.”

The Mages Guild

The Dungeons of the Guild were dark, filled with forbidden books. Water dripped in from the ceiling, drip...drip...drip...drip; Darkness hugged the walls and the room gave you the feeling that an ominous hand would reach out and tear your throat out. A lone man sat in the middle of the floor, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and saliva trickling out of his throat and dripping down his long beard. He continuously talked, babbling what would seem like nonsense, but was actually powerful, forbidden magic. Lessons were going on upstairs at the same time, and the man, a possessed Mage, was doing one of the darkest, most evil things that any Mage could ever do. There was a flash of bright light, and a doorway appeared, a doorway forged out of pure light. The door slowly crept open, and out stepped a man standing in a Tuxedo, looking exactly like Russell Brand, but with Red eyes.
“Bloody hell, the Mages Guild!” The man laughed, stroking the walls with long finger nails.
“I didn't summon you Hothian! Begone!” The Mage screamed, his legs creeping backwards and propelling his body against the wall; he had no were to go.
“Oh, hello there, I didn't notice you. Come on out boys!” On that note, several other Demons crept through, Hothians' agents of Madness. “You'll make a tasty snack.” Turning to the biggest of the Agents of Madness, Hothian winked at him. “Sick him boy.” The Demon rushed at the Mage.

The Screams were heard in the classrooms, the students exited, but they all felt something tugging at their mind, madness. They had to escape and get to Emor...

The Southern Wastes

The Sea was a canvas of water and icebergs, the ship had just set off from the Coast, carrying Korzans avengers with them. They were led by Captain Rupheus, who controlled the boat. “So, you'll be needed to go to Hercine to get a quarter of the bolt, then to Combrogia, and then the Dwarves have got the other part, and only then will you be able to get to the Sky God's kingdom. So I'll be dropping yee' off at the Hercinian mainland, we've got another few days or so, so sit tight maties!”

Pharaoh Atem
09-09-2012, 06:48 PM
Leonidas

a messenger came looking for Leonidas sent by Hercules he went strait to Leonidas tent but he wasn't their so the messenger knew he must of slept in the sea again so he ran to the cliff over looking the sea and looked down and in between the waves crashing agents the rocks he saw Leonidas lying on the sea bed so he dived in and shook him and as Leonidas woke up he created an ice pillar under him and the messenger with then grow and lifted them both up to the edge of the cliff and as h they stepped on land the ice pillar diapered then the manager gave Leonidas his massage and Leonidas went to Hercules as he arrived the water was still dripping of his armor and he went to Hercules's side and said "it's a good day for a battle wouldn't you say brother so what's are first target do you have somewhere in mind?"

(oh and something i forgot to mention in my CS is that Leonidas axe and armor are made of a rare metal that is very strong and doesn't rust)

Thor and Rogue

where in the middle of a battle with the imperial forces lead by Governor Boar Skull they where pushing his men back with ease as Thor was just running in with out thinking as always smashing everything in his path with one hit from his strength combined with the power of the Hurricane Hammer any shield would brake apart sometimes braking the arm of the man or woman holding it then he just hit them in the face killing them with one blow and his sister by his side shooting out blots of lighting from her swords striking down anyone in her path as they moved towards the main camp they herd the sound's of the enemy retreating as Governor Boar Skull tried to holed them off Boar Skull closed his pale white eyelids and began to chant. Vines began to wrap out and entangle themselves first around his thick fingers, and then all over his arms, stopping just above his elbow then Boar Skull stretched out his hands and 5 extremely sharp thorns shot out from each of his finger's as the vines killed 5 men Boar Skull ran to the Rendezvous point only to be met with combat, the last 70 of his men had been caught in a fight with a number Vikings then Boar Skull's glinting hands span wildly, catching armour and ripping it to shreds, giving a distraction that allowed his men to attack and fall back A large enough gap was made and Boar Skull called the forest once more. Asking his most trusted men to guard him, Boar Skull closed his eyes and attuned himself with the wild. The Trees began to shake, and powerful thorns began to stretch around the enemy group, trapping them. Every time one of them would try to make a break for it out of the boundary, a sudden smack of a tree branch would push them back into the herd but Boar Skull did not know their was one who could control the wind with juts his hammer and shield so Thor span his hammer over his head and summoned a powerful tornado around him and the rest of the Vikings blowing away the tress and their vines then as the tornado diapered Thor Rouge and the rest of the Viking charged at Governor Boar Skull and what was left of his men

Azazeal849
09-10-2012, 03:21 PM
The sun was climbing steadily higher above the Namorian capital, but the thick stone walls of the larger villas took some time to heat up, meaning that legion commander Decius Marcius was pleseantly cool in spite of his armour. The curved steel bands that circled his chest, back and shoulders slid neatly over each other as he moved, backed by a jacket of supple leather. The plates were hardened by smithing techniques copied from the dwarves of Dun Moriga. The circular clasp at his shoulder that secured his imperial-blue cloak was embossed with the numeral XVIII and a lightning bolt - the insignia of the Fulminata, the Thundering Legion. Decius Marcius was not a tall man, but he was an imposing one, with a hooked aquiline nose and piercing eyes beneath the military-cut fringe of his dark hair. Stepping out onto the veranda, his severe look was softened by a smile that deepened the premature wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. In the middle of the mosaic-tiled courtyard, his 8 year old son Marcus was brandishing a wooden sword at their house slave Attaxius. Marcus had his father's eyes and his mother's curly hair, and his sandalled feet pattered on the tiles as he weaved around Attaxius. The slave was pretending to be a Crocolyke, coming at Marcus with hooked hands and big lumbering sweeps of his arms, and Marcus was laughing as he dodged out of the way. His younger sister Diana, also with her mother's brown, curly hair, was cheering him on.

"Need a hand, Marcus?" Marcius grinned as he walked over, holding up a hand for Attaxius to pause. The commander's young son turned as he heard his father's voice.

"It takes teamwork to take down a Crocolyke." Marcius explained, "They're slow but they're also very tough, and they'll squash you like a redfruit if they catch you. Hey Diana, come here." His six year old daughter obediently trotted over, holding the hem of her dress. "Do you think you could be a legionary?"

Diana shook her head, her curly hair bouncing around her shoulders. Marcius pulled his blue-crested helmet out from under his arm and placed it on his daughter's head.

"How about now?"

Diana giggled, pushing back the oversize helmet as the rim fell over her eyes. Pointing her to stand on her brother's left, Marcius knelt down on Marcus' other side, bringing himself down to his son's height.

"You keep your shield up," he said as the three of them faced the patiently-waiting Attaxius, "And while your friends are jabbing it in the sides to distract it you hit it, WHAM!" He punched an imaginary sword towards the house slave's stomach. "Right in its soft underbelly. That's how you kill a Crocolyke."

He stood up and clapped Attaxius on the shoulder, who grinned and went back to menacing the two children. Leaving them to play, Marcius crossed over to the other side of the courtyard, where his wife was sitting in the shade and smiling as she watched their son and daughter.

"Where's Aurelia?" he asked her.

"Inside with Hercinia I think. You're all armoured up - are the legions mobilising today?"

Marcius nodded. "If not today then soon. The Emperor has just summoned me."

His wife shrugged. "It's about time we sent a serious force south. Letting the Norse flaunt imperial order for much longer will start giving the other provinces ideas. There's already supposed to be some kind of unrest in Combrogia."

Lycinia Caelesta Marci was a shrewd woman of 25. Olive skinned like most Namorians, she had a soft, round face and brown doe eyes that completely belied the razor-sharp mind which lived behind them. Being the daughter of a politician, and spending a lot of time talking with the wives of other politicians, she knew as much about current affairs in the Imperium as her husband, if not more.

"And all it took was the Sky Men promising to fight half our battle for us." Marcius said sardonically. The 'Sky Men' were the Earthborn, the Imperium's mysterious new allies from beyond the stars. "Of the other legati I've talked to, most of them don't trust their technology or their motives."

"They're probably right, Decius." Lycinia nodded, biting her lip. The Earthborn were relatively few in number, but the strange weapons they wielded were monstrously powerful. Lycinia knew as well as her husband that alliances tended not to last when one ally greatly outmatched the other. It had been a long time since the Imperium had had an ally rather than a vassal state, and even longer since they had come up against a force more powerful than they were. The Norsemen from the frozen south might stubbornly resist Namorian conquest, but they weren't powerful enough to attack the Imperium in turn. The Earthborn, on the other hand, possessed weapons that could devastate a legion, if they so chose. The Namorian Emperor had been wise to ally with them, trading raw materials for military support, but Marcius couldn't help wondering when the alliance would turn exploitative; when trade of resources would become forced tribute. They would have to find a way to steal or copy the Earthborn weapons before that happened. The enemy of my enemy...dies next.

"Dominus." said a voice behind them. "Your escort is here."

Marcius turned to see Hercinia, another one of their house slaves, with his youngest daughter Aurelia hanging onto her tunic. He put the long term implications of the Earthborn alliance to the back of his mind. For now, they had to take advantage of their help and finally crush the rebellious south, thereby securing the Imperium's dominance and quelling the unrest within its own borders. He nodded to the slave, and then turned back to his wife.

"I'd better go." he said. "This insult of a rebellion in the south has gone on for too long, and it needs to be ended whatever it takes. And then we can decide what to do about the Earthborn while we sit back and enjoy the spoils of war."

"Half mine?" Lycinia asked, with a playful flick of her eyebrows.

"And half mine!" This cheerful desecration of basic mathematics came from Diana, who had seen Hercinia come in and had run over with Marcus to say goodbye.

Marcius laughed as he took his plumed helmet back from his daughter. "By Mars, I've got too many business partners."

Aurelia let go of Hercinia's tunic and toddled over to hug her father's armoured leg. "Come home soon, daddy."

"I will sweetheart." Marcius picked up Aurelia to cuddle her before handing her back to Lycinia. "I'll be back before you know it. You'd better behave for your mother, do you hear?"

"Yes, dad." Marcus and Diana chorused. Marcius bent to kiss his wife's forehead, before turning with a swirl of his blue cloak and striding towards the gate to collect his horse and meet the legion tribunes who were waiting for him outside.


* * * * * *

"Your Imperial Majesty, legatus Marcius of the 18th."

Marcius consciously straightened as he was announced and stepped forward onto the senate floor, leaving his entourage behind. Ahead of him was a short, rotund man in a white toga. To look at him, one wouldn't think that this was the most powerful man in Eternum. Marcius snapped his right fist up to his left shoulder before holding the open palm out towards the Emperor.

"Ave Imperator." he greeted him solemnly as he dropped the salute. "How may I serve?"

La Volpe
09-11-2012, 08:57 PM
Kuronus Looked out over the valley he'd ended up too. it was lush and green, with plenty of game, and he saw a copse of trees he could use for shelter. Maybe he found a place to start new? He couldn't help but shake his shaggy head at the thought. A monster like him could only move on. He checked his gear, lovingly looking at his sword on his hip. Of all the things that had come and gone through his life, this sword had always been a trust worthy friend at his side. With a sigh, he started to make his way towards the trees he spotted from his view on the hill. He listened to the sounds around him carefully, picking out the birds from the small animals sneaking around in the underbrush. All the things around them were unique in there own way, and even though Kuronus was no druid, he could easily notice a few of the many differences natures creatures had to offer. The sound of snapping twigs made Kuronus freeze in his tracks, Slowly drawing his bow, Kuronus turned towards the direction while he carefully notched a arrow.

In one fluid movement, he spun on his heel, fully drawing the bow, and launching it into the brush where he heard the sound come from. Following the trail of his arrow he found that it had been a rather large rabbit that had spooked him. "Well i got food now, at least." He said with a sigh. Today turning out to be another boring day Kuronus thought to himself.

The Bartender
09-15-2012, 09:23 PM
With a tremendous noice, XH010 which Ann called "Talos" flew over the roofs of the imperial capitol. It was an imposing sight to see the huge, golden-white machine fly in the cloudless sky, escorted by two support machines of the JRA, the Japanese Rescource Agency, but all personal from Japan also belonged to "The Rising Sun". The Ships maintained the energy support of the huge machine so it would be ready to be used whenever needed.
Anne-Marie Felicia Suwahara of Bayern or just Ann, a Earthborn with high status and religious power. She was a daughter of a German noble who had been married into a family of Japanese Politicans who were all great belivers of Ra.
After landing Talos, Ann left the machine in order to change her clothes. She was wearing a full body suit that allowed her to synchonize her nerves with the machines nerve-circuits and thus control it.

---

Ann wanted to talk with the Emperor, not about the mission the actual erath government had, but that which the Japanese government had, recovering the teachings of Ra to Earth and remodel the religion of Earth. For this she had to meet with Ra himself and hear his words even better if he would lend her even some of his powers. This was one of the reasons why she was chosen to become a priestess, she had a strong body and will, that made her much stronger than normal women who would die due of the stress the work of a priestess causes.
"Sorry but the Emperor is just in a meeting, you must come later." A well-built man in a tunic said to her as she made the request to talk with the Emperor. This was something Ann didn#t usually hear, what she wanted was denied and that is something that annoys her the most. She didn't show and negative emotion;
"If you say so, it is not that important anyway so I will just come later again as ruling over a whole planet is not that easy." Ann said while using her talent of playing the role of a perfect lady. As the man turned away to do something else Ann turned to him and without any hesitation kicked the man into the lower back. She was wearing rather sturdy boots under her floor lenght dress which also rose up, showing the most of her white legs.
The kick itsef was so hard that the man staggered to the door leading to the throne hall and opened the door while falling to the ground. Ann walked over the man into the room;
"Good day to you gentlemen, I hope I'm not disturbing you..." Ann said while hiding her face behind a fan (http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7109/7056400639_29935dcf18_z.jpg). In her other hand she held her katana. Her appearance didn't have any flaws, only the fact that she had just entered the throne room of the emperor who ruled half of the planet without permission made it a bit strange...

Azazeal849
09-15-2012, 10:24 PM
Marcius spun round in a swirl of his indigo cloak, his ceremonial gladius finding its way into his hand at the same time as a dozen others in the chamber drew their own swords. The praetorian guards immediately moved to put themselves between the intruder and their Emperor, while Marcius' own knot of tribunes and centurion bodyguards remained near the door, watching Anne warily.

Nothing happened for several seconds, the newcomer's words left hanging in the air. She spoke the Namorian tongue perfectly, though with a strange, clipped accent. Still gripping his sword, Marcius regarded the woman over the fan she held in front of her face. Above the veil her eyes were almond shaped and slightly slanted – something that he'd never seen among the humans of Eternum.

Earthborn. he thought darkly. The Sky People integrated more women into their legions than was customary in Namor, and this one was clearly a soldier. She held a scabbarded sword horizontally behind her back with her free hand; the sword was narrow-bladed, but almost long enough to qualify as a polearm. Marcius did not like the implication that the Sky Men thought one of their legionaries could just barge into the Emperor's palace with impunity. He raised his sword a little higher.

“And you are?” he said slowly, when it became apparent that everyone else was too shocked to give voice. He paused for a moment, then ground his teeth and added: “My lady?”

The Bartender
09-16-2012, 02:40 PM
“And you are?” he said slowly, when it became apparent that everyone else was too shocked to give voice. He paused for a moment, then ground his teeth and added: “My lady?”

"Me? I'm sorry, where are my manners? [Writer comment: manners, what manners?] I'm Anne-Marie Felicia Suwahara of Bayern, a daughter of Noble from Germany, Earth, Wife of a well-known politican and a priestess of the allmighty god, Ra." Ann said and clapped her fan together and revealing her face.
"Could you maybe put those sharp things away, we are all civilized people and someone could get hurt if you swing them carelessly." Ann said and smiled a warm, kind smile.
"I have something to talk with the ruler of this planet so I decided that now is as good time as ever." She said and put the fan inside the wide belt of her dress and walked further into the hall and passed right next to Marcius;
"Now, just tell your people to put their swords away, we are all friends aren't we?" She whispered into the ear of the man.

Azazeal849
09-16-2012, 08:11 PM
Marcius didn't take his eyes away from Anne's as she brushed past him. He recognised the look in her eyes; it was one he had seen only in the gaze of his most experienced, stone-cold legionaries.

“Theoretically.” he murmured back to her, while behind him Cassius, one of his more empathetic tribunes, moved to help the dazed doorman back to his feet. “Though usually friends show a little more respect.”

The legatus stepped back and lowered the point of his sword slightly, looking to the Emperor as the latter belatedly found his voice.

Epostle
09-17-2012, 07:27 PM
The lands hold no hope of salvation. Souls scream from being tormented. Fire comes up from the grounds while it’s torn asunder. The sky was black, filled with flames and lightning alike. Demons traveled the lands, looking for other victims to torture, and objects to destroy. This was the realm of Destruction. “These lands… this place… my body chills.” Gabriel said as he pressed forward to find that which he had search for. Over 3,000 years and it finally came to this. Gabriel’s final bout against the 3rd horseman. The demons lined up to take apart Gabriel, a foolish error that would end with their demise.

After 1,000 of traveling and seeing the tormented lands and slaughtering lesser demons, the higher up demons line up to get a piece of the warrior, Gabriel finally stopped and looked around at the demons. “Foolish demons, do you think you can truly beat me? I have come for your master, and I will slay anything and everything that stands in my way.” Gabriel began to draw his power and his rage. The demons let out a war cry and began to charge at Gabriel.

“One by one.” Two demons were slain at the instant with the draw of his sword. “Two by two.” Gabriel sliced 4 of them in half with a powerful swing of his sword. “Ten by ten!” Gabriel began to slaughter the demons by the tens, using sweeps and flourishes. “All show bow to my power!!!” Gabriel yelled as his death count raised to around 500 around this time as he made his advance. The bodies of demons littered the path, dismembered, staked, decapitated, and decimated, the demons did not last a chance. The remaining demons who had never known fear, stared into the mask of the one warrior that would bring doom to them all. As the demons called to retreat and began to run away, Gabriel with all his rage stated “DON’T YOU DARE RUN FROM ME!!!” As he then began using his energy based attacks to destroy them by the hundreds. Though being lower ranked, Gabriel felt no remorse for the genocide he began to commit against the demon legions of Destruction.

“Who dares embark upon my realm!” Destructions voice rang throughout the realm. The ground began to tremble as a terrible power began to emerge from the ground, followed by explosions from the ground as magma began to rise, fire began to spit into the atmosphere, and an entity that stood taller than a normal human appeared. “You don’t belong here, half-breed. How you made it this far is beyond my comprehension, but it will end with me, breaking your mind, body, and spirit!” The demon lord said as a smile came across his face. With a spear in his left hand and a shield in his right, he bashed them together, emanating spark of lighting and fire combined.

Gabriel felt the power of the demon lord. Never had he encountered such a power in his life time, but then again, it wasn’t going to be his last. “My pure hatred of you is what brought me here… 3rd Horseman. My father was one of the first to die because of your reign of destruction, so now you will be brought down like the pathetic scum you are!” Gabriel said as he raised his power and drew upon both of his swords. Gabriel swung both of the swords down and emitted his massive amount of energy to the demon lord.

“I now know who you are… son of Braiga… but true son of Odin… that power is recognized easily.” Destruction took note of Gabriel’s power and didn’t like what he saw. Gabriel was powerful to have made it to this realm and lived. He wasn’t going to let Gabriel defeat him though. So he took the privilege of the first attack upon Gabriel, jumping in the air with his spear ready to come down and strike through Gabriel’s heart. Gabriel then blocked the attack by crossing his swords where the spear was going to strike him.

“Damn… he’s powerful…” Gabriel thought as he felt his felt begin to buckle, his arms being completely overpowered by the pure strength of the demon lord himself. Gabriel however reacted by spinning his body by moving his right foot in a kicking like motion and caught the demon in the stomach. It forcefully pushed the demon back but did not phase him at the least. “Come on little half-breed. You’ll have to do better than that.” The demon said as his eyes began to glow. He then raised his spear and from underneath Gabriel, the ground raised as a spike. It raised so quickly that Gabriel has little time to dodge, so his right arm was ran through by the demon’s trickery.

As Gabriel saw the spike go through, he swore. The demon lord began to charge at him, going for another spear thrust. Gabiel, using his speed sliced through the spike that had caught him in his arm, ducked underneath the spear thrust, and used his sword, Hate, to stab right through the demons heart. The demon screamed in agony as Gabriel said “What’s the matter? You were cocky a minute ago.” Gabriel then charged an energy based attack in his sword, then released the energy, encasing the demon in Gabriel’s raw energy and shooting in a ray, blasting the demon 30ft away, not only putting a crater in the ground, but bringing the demon to his knees with a terrible injury to his chest. “Curse you son of Odin!!!” The demon screamed as he then tossed the spear at Gabriel, infusing it with his demonic energies.

“That isn’t going to work…” Gabriel said as he slashed the spear. Gabriel, caught off guard, then saw the spear explode into energy waves that surrounded him, tightened, and began to constrict Gabriel as well as take his energy. “You’re damned trickery, demon…” Gabriel said hastily as the demon began to laugh. “Not bad Gabriel, but not good enough. I would kill you here, but I want you to suffer even more, you pathetic wretch!!!” The demon said as he used the energies to create a portal to send Gabriel to another realm which he did not know. “So Gabriel… how does is feel to be outdone once again?” The demon said as he conjured his spear back to him, and then filling it with his massive destructive energies.

Gabriel, knowing his defeat was near, had his final word to say to the demon “Destruction… how long do you think you can keep me at bay? My wrath is forever, while your reign is not. Know this demon lord… if you don’t kill me now, then I will be back… and I will conquer you… and make you suffer…” The demon then smiled as he then had a few choice words for Gabriel, “I don’t intend for you to survive this next attack… DESTROY!!!” The demon yelled as he tossed the spear with its remarkable energies. The spear hit Gabriel directly where his mask is, cracking it, and erupting the energy as he and part of the energy went through the portal. The demon lord laughed, thinking that it was the last breaths of Gabriel.

Gabriel, being blasted through the portal, shot out as if he was a shooting star. The sky flickered and turned a red color as the destructive blast radiated over the lands. Gabriel’s body was falling fast. With a last conscience effort, Gabriel summon a barrier around himself to prevent some of the fall damage he was going to take. His body was aiming for what looked like a valley. He was falling near where it seemed to be something hunting off the lands (Kuronus.) “I… failed…” Gabriel said as he finally landed, sending tremors throughout the ground he hit and leaving a crater, resonating with energies no one heard of.

La Volpe
09-19-2012, 12:52 AM
Looking to the sky, Kuronus saw what looked to be a falling star. He watched it from when it first appeared, to when it crashed, what he didn't see, was that it wasn't a star at all, but a person. After the shock wave passed from the crash, Kuronus grabbed his stuff quickly, and headed off towards the newly formed crater. As he neared it, a foreign feeling blasted him, as hard as a punch to the face. What the hell he thought, he couldn't help it but as he neared the crest, he barred his teeth and issued a low.. primal growl. His hand dropped to his sword hilt, as he looked over the edge, inside was nothing what he had expected.

It was a man.

"What the hell?" he whispered drawing his blade from its sheath. He sniffed the air the man smelt.... different.. something other then human. "What the hell are you?" he said as he slid down into the crater to investigate. As he neared he couldn't stop another growl from slipping out, the full moon would be coming in a few days. And his body could sense. Soon he'd be doing the scared run his father had tasked him with... and soon he would feast...

Death of Korzan
09-22-2012, 12:51 PM
Combrogia
The vines were swept away by a certain person swinging a hammer. For a second Boar Skull became terrified, thinking that the man who had performed this feat was actually the God Thor in disguise. 'No, that's ridiculous, these people are monsters, Thor would not support them.' As the barbarians charged again, boar skull ordered his men to retreat deeper into the forest and use it to their advantage. They had the knowledge of the forest, the enemy did not.

As the Combrogi ran through the forest, Boar Skull began to move trees and grow new ones so as to make the forest behind them more dense and difficult to follow them. He didn't know when but eventually the barbarians had lost them, and were returning back to the villages.

When back at their village, Boar Skull took his most trusted and skilled warrior aside, Gorvalon. “I want you to run to Emor and gain audience with the Emperor, tell him of what has happened.” Boar skull patted Gorvalon on the back and trudged back to the outskirts of the village, raising trees with roots so deep that wind would not be able to get rid of them.

Hercine
“Hello brother.” Hercules looked at Leonidas, the Spartan's sword and armour gleamed in the light the smell of the sea radiated off of his body. “We attack here;” Hercules pointed at the small blacksmithing village on the map he had. “And here.” His finger trailed over to the Citadel. “You will have to do it alone, I have...friends...I must meet with. I entrust the army into your hands.” Hercine then marched out of the tent and stuck his helmet on, he lifted his sword and banged it against his shield. “For Greece!” He put his sword away and took hold of the reins, riding away.

Emor
The Emperor sat, watching the Earthborn woman who had barged into his throne room unexpectedly argue with his best Commander Decius Marcius. The Emperor rose, his brilliant white toga showing his large belly. “Enough!” Galen moved down the steps that led to his throne slowly until he stood a few feet in front of both of the guests. “If your unacceptable entrance was not off-putting enough, you prudence is just as awful.” The Emperor locked eyes with the soldiers in the room, including Marcius. “Put your weapons away, blood will not be spilled in this room.” The Emperor turned and walked back to his throne, out of breath. He sat and looked at his guests with regal eyes. “I have a country to run and you're bickering like little children.”

“We are being attacked from every side, Hercine is under siege, as is Combrogia and Dun Moriga.” The Emperor's face looked grave. “Korzan has been killed but ever since that moment we have been under dire threat, it is as if the gods are against us.” He gulped. “We are preparing an army to march southwards, but we need someone to protect the frontier in the Imperium from these unidentified threats.” He looked up at Marcius. “We need a weapon against all of these forces, something powerful, but my old mind cannot think of anything we could do that we haven't tried before. Which is why I need your help. However, there is something else, the mages guild has been closed off, we have had no contact from anyone, not even the Earthborn emissaries, I will need you to go and have a look at that once we have found out what we are going to do...”

Pharaoh Atem
09-23-2012, 02:33 PM
Leonidas

Leonidas looked at the map and listened to Hercules as he explained that he hat to attack a small blacksmithing village followed by the the Citadel he whet and got 50 men and told them their mission he then got some hoses and him and his men rode of to the blacksmithing village

Dante

Dante was standing guard and just looking out over the horizon he had a strange felling that the imperials where planing an attack and he looked forward to good fight as it had been some time since his last battle so he ordered his men to strengthen their defenses just in case he was right

Thor and Rogue

after Thor blow away the vines Boar Skull and his men retreated into the deeper into the forest and as the Vikings chased after them trees began growing and blocking their path Thor tried to blow them away like he did before but this time it wouldn't work then Rouge shout lightning out of her swords striking the base of the trees knocking them over but it was to late Boar Skull and his men where gone Thor shouted in frustration "RRRRRAAAAAHHHHH" and then Rouge said "we should head back to the camp we just took from Boar Skull and rest their for the night so Thor Rouge and the rest of the vikings headed back to Boar Skull to rest

Epostle
09-25-2012, 12:41 AM
After a little while, Gabriel finally came to. Laying in the ground, he began to wonder where he was. Trying to get a feel for his surroundings, he slowly sat up. As he sat up, a sharp pain sat in his ribs as well as his whole body. He used his left hand to grab his ribs and felt blood. Finally realizing what had happened, Gabriel noticed that his robes where ripped and tattered, and his masked was crack down the middle as well as having chipped parts along the edges. So knowing his condition, he was still wondering about his position. Before he could get a full grasp upon his position, he heard a low growl. Wondering what it was, Gabriel focused his senses on whatever it was. At first he thought it was a wolf, but it ended up being much more than that. It was a were-wolf.

Hearing the beast slide down, Gabriel then stated, “What is this place and why do you come to me?”

La Volpe
09-26-2012, 09:53 PM
"Well hello too you too.." Kuronus whispered under his breath "We're in the middle of an unmarked valley, and I cam too you too see what you were. What the hell are you by the way? A wizard? the way you survived that kind of crash, with no real injuries?" He said squatting down and offering Gabriel his hand, he could sense the stranger wasn't hostile, well atleast not yet, so he figured he better start things on a good note. As they stood up, Kuronus couldn't help but try to see behind the mask that the stranger wore. But he was without luck, the mask stayed tight to his face. Turning away Kuronus looked to the sky, and he couldn't help but see that the sky was quickly getting dark. so much for making any progress through this valley he thought as he scaled back the crater

Azazeal849
09-26-2012, 10:05 PM
Marcius eyed the Earthborn newcomer warily for another heartbeat, and then dropped his arm and returned his sword to its sheath. The other men followed suit, although the praetorian guard remained standing between the Emperor and his audience. Any misgivings Marcius had for the earthborn Suwahara were temporarily forgotten after what the Emperor said next.

"We are being attacked from every side. Hercine is under seige, as is Combrogia and Dun Moriga."

"How?" Marcius asked in consternation. "No-one could have raised an army and crossed our borders without at least some warning!"

The Emperor looked grave. "Korzan has been killed but ever since that moment we have been under dire threat. It is as if the gods are against us."

Marcius surreptitiously touched the iron in his sword's hilt to ward off the bad luck of his Emperor's words. That the figurehead of the rebellious south was dead was excellent news for the Imperium, but not if his death had somehow angered the gods. He knew that the patron deities of the south probably had about as much power as Namor's own god Mars, but could they really conjure armies out of nowhere to punish the empire?

"We need a weapon against all of these forces, something powerful, but my old mind cannot think of anything we could do that we haven't tried before. Which is why I need your help."

"Most of our legions are scheduled to march south within the next few days." Marcius thought aloud, "The garrison legions in the outer provinces might be able to control the situation, but without more information on the attackers' strength, we can't risk leaving Namor undefended. It will do no good to conquer the south only to have our other protectorates razed and their people rebelling...and somebody knows this."

"There is something else." the Emperor added gloomily. "The mage's guild has been closed off, we have had no contact from anyone, not even the Earthborn emissaries, I will need you to go and have a look at that once we have found out what we are going to do..."

Marcius grunted under his breath. The mages, while not battle-winners by themselves, were powerful force multipliers who could have aided their cause. Technically an independent organisation, they were nevertheless allied with Namor within whose borders they rested. At least in theory - Marcius had heard disturbing news that a minority of the guild's graduates were defecting to the south. When Namorian diplomats had questioned them about it, the mages had assured them that as an organisation they knew which way the wind was blowing, and now as always it was blowing due Namor. Marcius had quietly vowed to himself that if the guild's metaphorical weathercock ever decided to get ideas about blowing the other way, he'd personally bite its bloody head off.

But if the guild was not available as an ally, for whatever reason, then how were they going to reinforce their beleagured border legions? One option did occur to Marcius - to petition the Earthborn - but he dismissed it almost instantly. The Sky People's aid in the southern conquest was already arranged, but begging their help to defend their own homeland was another matter entirely. The joint attack on the South was already being taken by some as a tacit admission that the Imperium could not subdue the rebels alone. They dare not give the same impression of their defence.

"There is one thing we could do though." the legatus added after a moment's pause, "Something that whoever is behind this won't expect. We could retrieve the Stones of Alcamor."

It was a famous story, and one which Marcius had told his own children numerous times. Alcamor, the only known son of Aegea, was generally recognised to have been the most powerful mage to have ever lived. In his dying days he had split his own consciousness into twelve parts and sealed them away in mystic stones, so that his power would live on. But after Alcamor's death the demons of Tartarus had stolen the stones, taking them back to their own realm where the living could not make use of them. But, it was said, anyone who could reunite the twelve Stones would command unstoppable magic power. It was the kind of tale that would be regarded as mere myth, except that the people of Eternum were shown tangible proof of the gods' existence on an almost daily basis. Tartarus was real, and the portal of its entrance well known, though only the god Ra passed through it with any frequency, battling demons through the night on his way to the new sunrise. Only the most brave or desperate of mortal men dared to follow in his footsteps. This, however, was undeniably a desperate situation.

"Let the invasion of the south go ahead as planned." said Marcius, "I will detach the Fulminata from the invasion force and use them to support the border legions and take the fight to the invaders; defeat our enemies one at a time. Together with the other border legions we should be able to buy enough time for our men to retrieve the Stones."

"But we're talking about Tartarus!" the Emperor objected, "We couldn't send less than a legion there and hope for victory, and you said yourself that we have none of them to spare!"

"Where a legion couldn't go," Marcius replied, rubbing his chin as he refined the plan in his head, "A small group might. Lady Suwahara claims to be a priestess of Ra - perhaps she can convince him to help us and give us passage through the demon world?"

The Emperor still looked worried, though he appeared to be warming to the plan. "And who else would we send at such short notice?"

"Our best soldiers." said Marcius, "And I know at least one. Salvius!"

At the call, one of the men in the legatus' entourage stepped forward. He was an imposing man, tall for a Namorian, and clad in striking scale armour. His helmet bore the horizontal plume of a centurion, crested with feathers dyed Imperial indigo. Beneath the rim of his silver helmet his face was square, grim and forbidding, with the rough-hewn look that came from being punched in repeatedly over the course of many battles. The man wore the craggy look with pride, just like his silvered mail, patterned greaves and dark blue cloak pinned at the shoulder with an eagle brooch. Hob-nailed sandals clacking against the floor, he came to a halt two paces behind Marcius with his hand resting easily on the hilt of his gladius.

"Centurion Salvius is my personal bodyguard." Marcius introduced the man, who saluted the Emperor as he turned his regal gaze on him. "I can personally vouch for his abilities."

Epostle
09-27-2012, 04:33 PM
Gabriel was surprised that he wasn't attacked from the start. Instead, the were-beast seem to have itelligence. Sensing how the beast was reacting, Gabriel sensed his offer to help him up. Gabriel grabbed his hand and slowly raised himself up. "Thank you. I am a human by the way. Just one that has taken his time to develop his powers. To call me a wizard is... belittling. " He said as he continued to hold his ribs.

Gabriel chuckled when he felt the eyes of the beast looking for an opening on his mask. "Sorry, but only I can remove the mask, and you don't need to see it yet." He said as he picked up his sword, Love, from the ground. He then holstered it over his back in a cross formation. Gabriel noticed something wrong. Where was the other sword, Hate? "By the gods... tell me, have you seen another sword around? It's vital if you had seen it fall around here. I must recover it quickly." Gabriel said in a worried tone. Hate is a sword that cannot fall to a weak minded persons hands. "If not, then please accompany me to search for my blade. While we're at it, you could tell me a bit of where I am. Everything seems different here... as if time was reversed... or this isn't Earth."

The Bartender
09-28-2012, 05:51 PM
Lady Suwahara claims to be a priestess of Ra - perhaps she can convince him to help us and give us passage through the demon world?"


Ann listened how the emperor discussed with the centurion amused, it was not disadvantaging for the humans that the imperium was taking damage, actually it was good for those money-hungry investors who funded these flights on this planet.
After listening for the discussion a while Ann decided to leave, it was obviously hard to het the Emperors support for her investigations in the moment and it would be annoying to just stay.
"I have no time for this, I have my own orders to follow and as I see you are busy with your problems I shall leave them to you." Saying that, Ann turned around and walked out of the throne room.

---

Short time later Ann came out of one of the support ships. She had changed to her piloting suit, a full bodysuit in red and yellow.
She had given her techs the order to wait for few hours and that they would propably begin when the sun sets.
"now I must just wait and see how they will act..." She thought.

La Volpe
09-29-2012, 09:06 PM
Looking back at the man, he smiled, a very rare thing for him these days. "I'll help you find your blade, but once we find it, you have to take off that mask of yours." he said, reaching down to help him out of the crater. "I understand how important a blade can be..." Kuronus continued "If I ever lost mine... Well lets just say the thieves would have had too run very far, very fast to get away with it." As he helped Gabriel out, he gestured around him, to the valley they were in. "This my friend is most definitely not this place you call earth.. Your on Eternum?" he said casting a side long glance towards his new travel companion.

Azazeal849
10-03-2012, 10:35 AM
"I have no time for this, I have my own orders to follow and as I see you are busy with your problems I shall leave them to you." Saying that, Ann turned around and walked out of the throne room.

While the doorman carefully stepped out of her way to avoid another surprise kicking, the tribunes he was hiding behind were left nonplussed by the sudden departure. Marcius could hear his officers muttering amongst themselves.

"Did she even say what she was here for?" Cassius was whispering, "Why kick up a fuss and then leave without even saying anything?"

"And that," growled Varinius, an older tribune whose opinions were generally as blunt as his rough-hewn face, "Is why women shouldn't be allowed in politics..."

Marcius himself however kept quiet. If nothing else, he thought, the fact that the Earthborn - or at least some of them - were worshippers of the old gods was an interesting revelation.


* * * * * *

"We split off from the main army and head for Hercine." Marcius outlined his plan to his tribunes as they walked. With more established infrustructure and industry, the province of Hercine was a far greater strategic and economic objective than the dark forests of Combrogia. Not only that, but the main army's southward march would carry it through Combrogia anyway, albeit slightly slower, and their combined might should easily rout any enemy force without Marcius' intervention. "After we link up with the Legio Hercina and the local defenders we take the fight to whoever threatens the province. Once Hercine is secure we march east to relieve Dun Moriga. With all their underground fortifications and the Legio Ferrata as garrison, the dwarves should be able to hold out until we arrive. Nevertheless, speed is vital gentlemen. We will need swift and decisive victories."

Stepping out into the hot Namorian afternoon, the legatus and his tribunes approached their horses who were tied up outside. Marcius' jet-black stallion was pawing the cobbled ground impatiently, as if sensing the air of anticipation running through the assembled legionaries in the open square beyond. The vast open space of the Plaza Victoria was the 18th legion's mustering ground, and the 6000 men all stood in neat units with their blue banners and silver and gold battle standards thrust triumphantly towards the sky. Each bore a slightly different design, but every one carried the letters IPQE - Imperator Populusque Emorus - the enduring motto of the Imperium.

Most of the men were identically-equipped legionaries, with swords, javelins and rectangular blue shields, though there were a number of light cavalry on strong Namorian horses, and a large contingent of Dun Morigan dwarves. The dwarves aided the legion's small artillery contingent, maintaining and manning the advanced war machines that their people had tought the Imperium how to make. It was these crashing, fire-breathing machines that had earned the Legio Fulminata their nickname. The specialists - the surgeons, the blacksmiths, the horse-carers and all the other small cogs that kept a legion fighting were gathered behind with the pack animals. Unit flags stirred in the fitful breeze, along with indigo cloaks thrown over shoulders to keep the sun off the legionaries' glinting armour.

"The only thing they're waiting on is your order, sir." said tribune Cassius as he unknotted the reins of his chestnut mare.

"Well then." Marcius said as he untied his own reins and swung himself easily up into the saddle, "Let's get this campaign moving."

He had decided to tell his men of the threat facing their empire now rather than later. He knew that here in the open plaza his words would reach not only his soldiers, but also the plebians going about their business - however, news of the invasion would be circulating the city soon enough, and Marcius wanted to put as positive a spin on the revelation as possible before rumours began to inflate the power of the invaders.Swinging himself deftly up into the saddle of his horse, he rode out to the front of the assembled legion with his tribunes in tow. Centurions shouted for a salute, and the silver squares of troops rippled as the men brought up their right arms in unison, banded armour catching the sunlight.

"Men of the 18th," Marcius called out in a loud voice, easing into a practiced oratory style, "Our beloved Imperium stands at a crossroads. Today our armies march to put down the rebellious south once and for all, and secure Namorian supremacy for all time. They will defeat this last stronghold of barbarians, and we will have peace, as one people, under one Emperor!"

There was a hoarse cheer from the assembled legionaries. Marcius let it die down before he continued.

"But the gods have sent other trials for us. Unknown enemies rise within our own borders, seeking to undo everything we have fought so long and hard for. This is no barbarian raid or slave uprising. This is an invasion. The Imperium needs defenders in its time of need, and this task falls to us. You are the Fulminata, the thundering legion. You are the finest fighting force in all of Eternum! If these enemies invade our protectorates and our own homeland, then they are obviously ignorant of the fact. Let's go forth and educate them!"


* * * * * *

Centurion Varro Salvius cracked a smile as he watched from an awning-covered stable in the street beyond the plaza, saddling his piebald mare for the coming journey. The legatus still had a way with words, though he imagined it wouldn't be long before the men started asking the obvious questions like who the invaders were and where the hell they had come from.

Watching his old legion preparing to march away without him prompted an odd mix of emotions in Salvius. He knew his duty, and he was proud to be entrusted with such a mission, but a part of him resented his men and his commander marching to battle without him. Salvius had enjoyed the cameraderie of the Fulminata, the thrill of combat and the power and respect of having eighty men under his command, looking up to him. He had also enjoyed the more materialistic rewards of being legatus Marcius' personal bodyguard, though now another man would be taking up the post while Salvius himself set off in search of the Stones of Alcamor. Salvius hoped that whoever was temporarily replacing him would be up to the task. If not he would retrieve his obsolete centurion's staff from his mantlepiece and issue some good old-fashioned corporal punishment.

Perhaps, he mused, there was another upside to this mission - returning to the marching trail in the manner of a basic legionary might help him decide what he wanted to do next. His fifteen year term of service would be ending soon, and he still hadn't decided whether he was going to sign up for a further ten years, enlist privately as legatus Marcius' permanent bodyguard, or retire to the generous pension of land and wealth that his rank entitled - more than sufficient to catch the eye of some nobleman's daughter. The prospect of further wealth and political connections intrigued Salvius, and it was the ultimate duty of every Namorian man to find a good wife and ensure the furtherance of his legacy. Mars knew, Salvius took duty as seriously as any man. However, as much as he enjoyed the intimate company of young Namorian women (the occasional camp followers of other countries simply didn't compare) he didn't feel ready to set everything else aside for one woman, and swap the responsibility of his legatus and his legionaries' lives for that of his eventual children.

Salvius grunted as he picked up a saddlebag of food and water for his journey. It was a long way through Combrogia and then Dun Moriga to the gates of Tartarus deep in the Afragi desert, but if nothing else six weeks on the road would give him ample time to think on it.

"Going far?" the stable master asked as Salvius hitched the saddlebag onto his horse.

Salvius gave the man a toothy grin as he pulled a simple hooded cloak over his armour and slung his oblong shield over his back. "I'm going to Tartarus."

"Like sod you are."

As the well-oiled machine of Marcius' legion began to unfold into its marching column, Salvius mounted up and picked his own way to the city gates. He was headed the same way as the army - south, through Combrogia - though he wasn't going to wait for the slower legions. From there he would turn east into the moutains, through the dwarven realm. From there things would get interesting - although the dwarves had had many years of cultural exchange to soften the blow of conquest, and indeed now many of them served as legion auxilliaries, not all dwarves were welcoming of Namorians. Still, there was always the option of linking up with the Legio Ferrata who served as Dun Moriga's garrison; provided they hadn't succumbed to whatever force was threatening the Imperium, seemingly at every province and border. Then came the hardest part, and the greatest unknown: the Afragi desert, the meeting with the god Ra, and the gates of Tartarus itself.

Before all that, Salvius planned to meet up with a man he had known when he was still a legionary - an archer and huntsman of some renown who had served as a temporary legion auxilliary during one of the Fulminata's campaigns in Combrogia. If the man still lived there - and, indeed, if he still lived - Salvius hoped to enlist him in his hunt for the Alcamor Stones. While one man could slip easily through enemy territory, Salvius could not fight through Tartarus single-handed to retrieve the Stones. Other veteran legionaries were supposed to be joining him on the way, once commander Marcius had talked to the other legati, but it was this man that Salvius wanted to find. He knew him, and he knew exactly how well he could fight. Moreover he knew that the man loved action and the open road and that the long quest would appeal to him. The man's name was Koronus.

Salvius gave his mare her head and let her pick her own way along the paved road that led due south from Emor. He had a long way to go.


* * * * * *

In the heat of the early afternoon, the Appia district's public baths were bustling with patrons. Lycinia Marci reclined in a semi-circular alcove of the main pool, with several of her friends seated around her on the underwater marble bench. Like most of the Emorian upper class, Lycinia had her own private pool in her family villa, but she still made a point of frequenting the public baths - they weren't just a spa and exercise suite, they were a social area, a rumour mill and, occasionally, a source of valuable information. This was proving to be one of those times.

"It was horrific." Seppia said, shaking her head in a move that caused the body slave who was washing her hair to pause in her work. Seppia's husband, though a respected politician, was regarded as something of an eccentric by his peers for having spent some of his youth training with the Mages' Guild. His and Seppia's decision to send their son to the same school earlier that year had caused a minor scandal. Lycinia had refrained from criticism however, because they were cousins by marriage through her husband's father.

"Remember I told you how Gaius went to see young Titus last week and was turned away because the Guild had closed itself off? Well last night Titus came crashing into our villa in the middle of the night, covered in blood and dirt, and completely speechless. It looked like he had run all the way back here from the Guild."

"Great Mars." Lycinia breathed, "Is he alright now?"

"He's resting. But every time he wakes up he starts babbling about demons in the Guild."

"Demons?" said Servilia, a slim, austere-looking woman who was married to the legatus of the 4th Legion. She raised her thin eyebrows as she spoke. "In the middle of Namor? I certainly hope not. How would they get so far from Tartarus? Are you sure your son wasn't, well, mistaken? From panic?"

"Maybe." said Seppia, biting her lip. "He was very shaken-up."

Julia, the youngest of the group, reached out underwater to lay a comforting hand on Seppia's. "At least he's alright, though? Whoever it was, it could have been much worse."

Lycinia nodded agreement, thinking how she would feel if it was her own son or daughters who had been put in harm's way. The wider implications however troubled her more. She half turned and beckoned to Afragia, the dark-skinned body slave who had been standing back guarding her mistress' towels, oils and depilatory creams from the various petty thieves who tended to frequent the baths.

"Afragia," she said to her, "Leave my things here, I'll watch them. I need you to go to the market and find Ovidius. Tell him I've got work for him."

"Yes, domina."

Lycinia watched the slave-girl go, resting her elbows on the mosaic tiles at the edge of the pool. Aulus Ovidius was a talented spy and courier who did a lot of work for House Marcius. With the Mages' Guild mysteriously closed down to all ambassadors, more subtle means of information gathering would have to be employed. This rumour of demons manifesting so far outside their traditional haunt near the gates of Tartarus was definitely something that should be looked into.

Death of Korzan
10-05-2012, 07:27 AM
Combrogia
The town paced with action as Boar Skull gathered those who were fit and armed them, even the women and children, as they prepared to get away from their home nation and enter the city of Emor. Combrogia was lost, the enemy had taken it and as the Combrogi became hunted down, Boar Skull had realised that this was his only chance at saving the tall Germanic like people.

“Gather the children! We must leave the forest and head for Emor.” There were a few unhappy moans coming from the people of the Village, but they all acknowledged that this was their only chance of survival. “Come, we must leave now!” Boar Skull turned, but a rustling in the trees stopped him in his tracks. His blood went cold and his face flushed. A man, a single man wearing a blood stained leather jerkin, a ceremonial headband and wielding a long Germanic sword stood before Boar Skull. The man had his long blonde hair tied back and his piercing blue eyes looked at Boar Skull with a lust for blood.

The man charged at Boar Skull, who replied by darting out of the way and grunting, his bark hands shot up and vines flew at the man, who deflected and cut them to pieces with ease, again charging at Boar Skull and nearly cutting off one of his arms with a very severe blow. The man smiled. He was easily 7 ft tall, an equal match for Boar Skull, although lacking magic, he had the upper hand in something else...something that Boar Skull couldn't quite place his finger on.

Boar Skull yelled, it had been the 5th time he had been wounded. His shoulder, forearm, leg and left breast had been deeply cut, whilst his foe hadn't even broken a sweat and was obviously ready for more.
“Governor!” A few Combrogi warriors ran to Boar Skulls side. “We noticed you weren't with the men and we came back.” As if planned, a few other men stepped out of the forest behind the original combatant, who still stared Boar Skull in the eye. Boar Skull stooped to one knee. “Get back boys, go and return to the protection of the others, I am sure that they will need as much help...as they can get.”

Boar Skull drew a circle around himself and looked up at the men, they had all slunk back off into the woods, other than the first man who had appeared, who was grinning and spinning his sword menacingly. Boar Skull murmured something before his bones started cracking. His spine arched and as his druid power channelled through his body, he slowly became a huge Wild Boar with huge curling tusks. Boar Skull snorted and charged at the enemy, who did not flinch, did not waiver, and did not miss.

The Druidic warrior fell. He laid, sprawled out over the floor, his chest panting. His weak eyes looked up at the figure who stood above him, his blue eyes piercing into his very soul. With his last breaths, Boar Skull spoke.
“...What...what are you...” In response, the man raised his long sword above Boar Skull's head and as he brought it down, Boar Skull could hear:

“I. AM. BEOWULF!”

Outside the Mages Guild
It had turned dark by the time there had been anyone around the Mages Guild, but it was not Aulus Ovidius, it was someone else, someone far more mysterious, and maybe even more dangerous than he was.

“What is your will mother.”
“You will go and banish the Demon Lord, it is not his time.”
“What of the living Mages...”
“Kill them all, none should have seen this...”
As good as this assassin was however, he never detected another presence approaching from the direction of Emor, and as he tried to get through the demonic barriers placed over the Guild tower, he never knew whether the other man was going to sneak up on him or completely miss his presence...

Namorian Camp (Borders of Combrogia)
Night had fallen on the Namorian camp as the 18th legion waited by the edge of the grand forest of Combrogia. Howling of wolves could be heard and the stench of death and change ran rampant through the wind, souring the virgin noses of the legionnaires, both new and old. Marcius Decius stood in his tent, mapping out the area, it was a well known travel route, but the road had been covered by trees. Southern Slaves were currently being tasked with the destruction of these trees and whilst everyone was busy watching, laughing and quaffing, Marcius was taking things into his own hands, but he was about to get a very important visitor.

The door flaps to the tent opened and a figure walked in. He had a poweful aura, more powerful than a mortal could, it was something that only belonged to a God. The sound of metal clinking...grenades, and the shaking of armour could be heard. “Hail Marcius.”
It was Mars, God of War and The Imperium, he sat down on what looked like a spare chair at first glance, but if you focused on it you could see that it was actually a small throne that Mars had generated in the tent.

“Do not speak son, I come bearing news. You should not fear the Crocolykes, those Slaves have almost given up trying to free themselves, you should not fear the South either...” Mars looked down, his brow furrowed, his head dipping and the hilt of his broadsword in clear light. “You should fear what awaits you in the forests, and what awaits your Kingdom. You should fear your Older brothers in War...” Mars seemed pained to say this. “I would say turn back now but that would destroy your honour. The forces beyond this point are extremely powerful though son...” Mars stood and looked around the room. “Avoid the west of the Forests if you can, when you reach Hercine, do not head for Hercinate and please...try not to kill the 18th...”

Mars turned to Marcius, holding up his hand. A sword slowly materialised, looking like it was bound together by Flesh. A large red jewel was beset on one side of it, and as the sword hovered in the air before Marcius, he could sense the Demonic power that yearned to be free from the small prison that the blade was for it. “This is a powerful weapon Marcius, Hate, you may not keep it forever, one day it will return to it's original owner, but for now I wish that you use it, it will save you many times I believe.”

Mars began to exit, he turned one last time and stood, saluting. “Imperator Populusque Emorus. Good luck boy, you're going to need it. Also, try not to lose the blade, I had to travel through Tartarus to acquire that, and Destruction wasn't happy about letting it go...” Then he left. And no one else in the camp saw him, as if he'd disappeared...

Hercine
Whilst all of this unfolded, Leonidas, followed by an impressive Greek force marched upon the Small mining/blacksmithing Village of Tutua. Here they would lay siege to the village and take it for the Hercules.

Meanwhile, at another point in Hercine, Hercules stood. 4 square markings had been made, with lines all across them. Hercules began to chant in Ancient Greek, the magical radiation flocked all around the 4 squares until they slowly began to sink downwards, each line sinking to a shorter length than the first, creating seemingly natural rock steps. An immense heat seemed to launch itself out of the 4 pits, but bright lights shone from each of the stairways. Hercules smiled, 4 of the most powerful warriors were about to come forth, and they were all Greek.

“Come to my aid, Perseus, Theseus, Heracles...and Achilles.”

Azazeal849
10-08-2012, 09:59 PM
Aulus Ovidius had been pleasantly surprised when domina Marci had given him the job. He had been especially pleased that she had sent Afragia, as he had had his eye on the ebony-skinned girl for some time. He had, once or twice, considered asking domina Marci for a night with Afragia instead of his usual payment, but that would have...given the wrong impression. He would have much rather met the girl under more equal circumstances - they just hadn't presented themselves yet. The fact that Afragia was a slave didn't bother him; indeed, Ovidius was unusually conscious of how he spoke and acted towards slaves in general. As the son of a freedman - a slave who had amassed enough personal wealth to buy their own freedom - he appreciated how easy it would have been for himself to have been born into the same life. Ovidius' father most definitely did not approve of the line of work his son had got into, but then he approved of very little that Aulus did. Sometimes, the spy was glad of his lowborn heritage, as it meant he didn't have to treat the word of the family father as law the way Namorian citizens did.

No, Aulus Ovidius was more comfortable in the shadows at the fringes of Namorian society. He had an affinity for them - he had grown up in the shadows, and it was in the shadows that he worked. He stood in shadows now as he crouched among the shrubs, watching the man who had made it to the Mages' Guild before him. Ovidius put the pleasant thought of Afragia's face and long legs from his mind, and focused on his mission. It seemed that his mistress wasn't the only one interested in finding out what had happened here. But the hushed words of the man ahead of him revealed that the mystery went deeper still.

“What is your will, mother.”

Ovidius looked around, but he could not see any second figure. He did, however, hear one speak.

“You will go and banish the Demon Lord, it is not his time.”

“What of the living Mages...” asked the man - again, seemingly to the air.

“Kill them all, none should have seen this...”

Ovidius held his breath as the man glanced behind him. His face was concealed by a white porcelain mask. In one hand he held a small scythe, in the other a short silver chain that swung silently back and forth. The masked man began creeping round the perimeter of the walls, running his hands through the air as if testing invisible wards. Ovidius realised with a jolt that the Guild tower must be protected by magic, and that the masked man was trying to find a way through. Well, if he succeeded, then presumably Ovidius could follow.

Ovidius waited for a long time, wary of the unseen voice that the masked man had addressed as mother. Soon however, the masked man had moved far along the wall, almost out of sight, and the Marcius family spy risked losing him. Pulling his cloak hood lower over his eyes, Ovidius slid silently from his hiding place and ghosted after the man in the mask, every footstep carefully placed so as to avoid snapping a twig or crunching a dry leaf. So the rumours - the ones that Seppia had related to mistress Lycinia, who had in turn told Ovidius - were true. Demons were abroad in the human world, and right in the heart of Namor. And someone, namely this masked man and his invisible mother, knew more about it than the rest of them.


* * * * * *

Arriving at the edges of the dark Combrogian forest, which seemed to have expanded north since he had last seen it, Salvius halted abruptly and pulled down the hood of his traveling cloak to get a better view of his surroundings. He was well ahead of the following legions and making good time, but a sudden sense of foreboding gave him pause. His horse was equally unsettled - snorting and tossing her head, her ears laid back flat against her skull. He had not crossed the river Minerva yet, but the trees were already all around him. The southwesterly winds blowing warm from Hercine might have carried some seeds north of the river, but they would never have grown this tall in a single season. Some powerful druid had been at work here, though to what end the centurion could not guess. The new trees seemed unusually quiet, no birds twittering or roosting as the wind sifted through the trees. The wind carried towards Salvius an unwelcome smell - one that was unnerving his horse, and which the centurion himself was all too familiar with. The sickening, blood-and-shit smell of recent and violent death. All of this combined to generate a voice in the back of the centurion's head, urging him to turn back and find another way round.

However, it would take a long time to retrace his steps to the next river crossing, and there was no guarantee that that road would be any safer - and to forge a path off-road through the Combrogian forests would be slower and more dangerous still. Salvius decided that he would carry on, and rely on his wits and his skill with a sword. He liked that plan. It usually stacked the odds in his favour.

Calming his mare and giving her a gentle nudge with his heels, he continued forward into the forest.


* * * * * *

"This is where we go our separate ways." Marcius said, offering his hand to praetor Maximus, who reached out and clasped his wrist in a warrior's handshake. Maximus was the appointed commander in chief of the southern expeditionary force; 15 legions in total, more than half of Namor's total military strength.

"I must warn you - we should be wary of what awaits in the forest ahead. The enemies that threaten our borders are supposed to be extremely powerful."

"Marcius," Maximus replied, his haughty voice tinged with amusement, "I have planned to be careful ever since we saw that strange overgrowth of trees this side of the river. Only a powerful druid like governor Boar Skull could have expanded the forest so quickly. But if the enemy have mages, we will handle them, just like we have before. What has changed to have you so concerned?"

"A visitation from Mars." Marcius said grimly.

Maximus frowned, his heavy eyebrows knitting together above his steely eyes. He seemed surprised, but few Namorians dismissed a story of divine intervention out of hand. Such meetings between men and gods were hardly rare across Eternum.

"What was it? A dream?"

"No." Marcius answered, "He came to me directly, and he gave me this."

He unsheathed the second sword at his waist, the one hanging beside his ceremonial gladius. Maximus did not recoil, although his frown deepened as he looked at the darkly glittering demon weapon. Dark magic pulsed off it in palpable waves, making the hairs on both men's forearms stand up.

"Marcius..." the praetor said slowly, "That's no god's weapon. That's a demon sword. Why would Mars give you something like that?"

"I don't know." Marcius confessed dourly, "But his warning about enemies waiting in the Combrogian forests was clear enough. Be careful, praetor."

"I intend to be." growled Maximus, "Good hunting, Marcius. The gods' ways aren't ours to understand, but Mars is clearly watching you."

"I'll try to give him an entertaining show." Marcius replied, "Good hunting, praetor. Bring those barbarian bastards to heel."

The praetor's question stayed with Marcius until the next morning, when the 18th legion peeled off from the main army, leaving it to cross the river into Combrogia without them, and turned west along the newly-cleared highway. He pulled his horse some distance off the road so as not to unsettle the column of legionaries marching around him, and drew the sword again to examine it. As a weapon, he didn't like the sword. The triangular blade was only sharp along one edge, and it was poorly balanced. But the dark aura that seeped out from it spoke of some other power that no mundane blade possessed. As he looked at it, Marcius thought he felt the pulsing from the weapon change, synchronising with his own heartbeat.

He sheathed the sword again with a slight shudder, clearing his mind by thinking back to Mars' other words to him. The warnings about the danger waiting in Hercine and Combrogia had been explicit, but what had the Imperium's patron meant by 'their older brothers'?

He got an answer sooner than he expected. A number of the legion's cavalry scouts, who normally rode a day or two's march ahead of the infantry, came galloping back down the paved road in the early afternoon and immediately sought out Marcius.

"Legatus! We have located the enemy!"

"Where?" Marcius snapped, reining in his horse as his tribunes immediately urged their own steeds forward so they too could hear the news.

"Two days march ahead of us, on the southern bank of the river. They're heading east, this way, following the river."

The river Minerva formed a natural border between the land of Namor and thickly-forested Combrogia, winding its way between the hills until it reached the western sea, just before the coastline expanded westwards into the province of Hercine. Not far ahead of Marcius' army's current location it widened considerably, making a crossing without boats impractical.

"Searching for a crossing point?" guessed tribune Cassius.

The great stone bridges that made Namorian engineering the envy of most of Eternum, the ones by which the rest of the Emperor's army had crossed, were far upstream of the invaders. However, there were several fordable points between there and the river's wide estuary.

"What are we dealing with?" Marcius asked the scout. He noted that the man was sweating from his long ride and his horse was no better, blowing hard and with flecks of foam streaked around its mouth and cheeks.

"I...I'm not sure sir. At first we thought it was one of the Hercinian legions. They were equipped just like our men and they marched in cohorts, but they wore red crests instead of Imperial blue."

"Red?" Marcius repeated, raising an eyebrow. No Namorian legion wore red heraldry, and he could think of no legion auxillaries who used the colour either. "Equipped just like our men, you said?"

The scout nodded. "But they're definitely hostile sir. When we approached and hailed them, stating our allegience, they fired arrows at us."

"How in the 12 hells could anyone seize an army's worth of legionary armour and weapons?" put in tribune Vorinius, "Have those treacherous Hercinians been selling equipment to the rebels?"

"They're too well drilled to be rebels, sir." the scout said, shaking his head. "They march just like our own men."

"Could we be looking at traitors?" Marcius asked. Though the thought seemed incredible, he felt his blood boiling at the idea of the two Hercinian garrison legions turning against their oath to the Emperor. "How many of them are there?"

"From the number of banners..." the scout hesitated, as if reluctant to deliver his estimate. "Four legions, sir."

"Four legions!" exclaimed Vorinius, before swearing loudly.

Marcius put a hand up to untie his chin strap, removed his ornate helmet, and ran a hand through his sweat-flattened hair. There weren't even that many Namorian soldiers in Hercine. These mysterious enemies had come from somewhere else. And they outnumbered Marcius' force four to one. Unless he planned to retreat to link up with the city of Emor's home legions - an ignominious flight that would take days, along with the risk of losing contact with the enemy and letting them rampage through Namor, or even turn south and hit Maximus' army from behind - he had only one option to meet this enemy on anything like equal terms.

"We need to reach the westernmost ford before they do." the legatus said in a strong voice. "Cassius, deploy the light cavalry to shadow these red-crests. Vorinius, tell the men to pick up the pace. We won't stop to make camp until after nightfall."


* * * * * *

By virtue of the superior Namorian roads, and the fitness of its men, the Legio Fulminata reached the westernmost ford over the river Minerva in the afternoon of the next day, and had begun to deploy to block the crossing when a thick dust cloud appeared to the east, heralding the arrival of the mysterious invaders (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HmM_rlnYnmw). The river meandered through a deep valley with hills to either side, patiently winding its way through the peaks. Running parallel to the river on either side were the paved highways built by the Imperium to improve communications between Namor and Hercine, and it was along the highway following the southern bank that the invaders marched. They moved in a long column, blocks of troops broken up by banners and standards, and as the scouts had said every man wore a cloak dyed in striking, foreign scarlet. Ahead of the column a patrol of horsemen stood, waiting at the ford, and observing the Namorian legion that had beaten them to it. As the lead elements of the enemy column reached the ford and saw the blue-cloaked Namorians fully deployed for battle, they stopped and waited. But the column from the east kept coming, cohort after cohort swelling the ranks of the massing red-crests. Already they outnumbered the Fulminata twice over. But they did not attempt to force a crossing. The fordable section of the river, as both Marcius and the enemy scouts knew, was narrow. With their opponents already ranked up on the far bank, in the short stretch of flat land before the ground sloped up into a sizeable hill, the red-crests' numbers meant nothing. Equally, Marcius could not lead his own men over the river against a force of such numerical superiority and hope to win. And so the two sides watched each other, at stalemate, while the red-crest build-up continued.

As evening began to fall, legatus Marcius along with his tribunes and his personal honour guard rode down into the flood plain and splashed into the shallows of the river's northern bank. There they waited, with one of Marcius' men carrying a white flag that fluttered at the end of his spear, a signal to the red-crests that he wished to talk. Ten minutes later, a similar sized band of mounted men rode out of the red-clad army to meet them. Marcius picked out their probable leader as he drew closer. He was a strikingly tall man, seated atop an even taller horse, and his contoured breastplate was shining silver. Beneath his plumed helmet was a cleanshaven face, tanned and lined by the sun, with coal-black eyes that spoke of a will of iron. The man seemed corporeal, though a strange feeling twisted in the gut of every Namorian who looked at him. Perhaps he carried some magic about him, or perhaps he was not even of this world.

"Ave." Marcius said stiffly as the imposing man expertly halted his horse a few paces short of him. "I am legatus Decius Marcius of the 18th legion, and I represent the Imperium of Emperor Galen Hipacretis Claudius and the people of Emor. Who are you, and why do you march as if for war so close to our border?"

"I am legate Augustus Septim of Rome." the red-crest leader said, with a voice that rumbled like boulders grinding against each other. "And I come to cast down this blasphemy you call an Imperium."

"You speak good Namorian." Marcius noted in surprise.

"No," Septim corrected, "You speak good Latin. Everything about your Imperium is a pale reflection of our own Empire, and an insult to its memory."

"And what Empire would this be?" Marcius asked, his tone level. "Are you Earthborn?"

The legate grunted. "After a fashion. We hail from an empire of antiquity, one of pride and progress. Nemesis has set us free from the Underworld, and we don't like what we see."

Behind him, Marcius could sense his tribunes exchanging glances. The goddess Nemesis was behind this invasion?

Legate Septim went on, "I see blue-robed pretenders swaggering about, aping our ancient customs, perverting our empire's legacy. I see an empire built on lies and pretense without thought or true understanding, and by almighty Neptune I will see it cast down, and a true Roman Empire restored in place of this mockery."

The man spoke with a sense of pride and righteousness that left Marcius' tribunes variously impressed and nervous. They looked to the commander himself, wondering how he would answer.

"This is our world and our empire, not yours." said Marcius, his tone still completely neutral. "This is today, not the distant past. If you seek war with Namor, then you're my enemy, and I will stop you."

"And this is all you offer in your empire's defence?" the legate scoffed, "A single legion? My scouts and spies have done their work. We know you are stretched thin across your protectorates, with perhaps only 3 legions left to hold Emor itself. If you as a commander are foolish enough to let your legion be slaughtered piecemeal, then so much the better. It'll be a good warm-up for my legionaries before they sack the city of Emor."

"The Emperor dispatches a single legion because that's all I need to send you running back to the Underworld." Marcius countered.

"Your Emperor is a fool, and his days are numbered." The legate smiled, with all the warmth of a shark. "You cannot stop me, legatus Marcius of Namor. My scouts have already located another ford just 15 miles upriver. You can block one crossing, but you cannot block them all. Not when even half my force outnumbers yours twice over. Surrender now and I'll kill you quickly, rather than have you paraded and executed after we storm your capital city and reclaim it for the true Empire."

Marcius could sense several of his men's hands drifting towards their sword hilts at the threat, and several of the red-crest bodyguards responding in kind. He ignored them, keeping his eyes locked on Septim.

"I will extend you the same offer, legate."

Septim smiled again, with the same lack of humour. "Sleep well, legatus Marcius. Tomorrow you and all of your men will bow before the might of Rome."


* * * * * *

Legate Septim was quick to begin carrying out his threat. As night fell, the garrison left to watch the river crossing reported torches moving away eastward, as half of the red-crest army began a night march to the second ford. They didn't hide their torches because they didn't need to - there was nothing the Fulminata could do to impede their progress.

"Please tell me you were talking with the confidence of a real plan and not just caught up in the dick-waving when you said all that." Vorinius said bluntly as he and the other tribunes gathered with Marcius in his command tent. "Because as much as I hated that condescending bastard, he's right. Whether we stay here or night-march to the other ford, we'll have two legions marching on our flank by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. And if we split our forces, they'll probably overwhelm both crossings."

"We're going to hold one ford." Marcius replied gruffly. "And hammer the bastards when they try and cross."

"But he has no reason to cross until he sees his other two legions marching on our flank." Vorinius pointed out sourly.

"So we give him a reason." countered Marcius. The legatus' eyes were alight with a dark fire. In fact, he was grinning as he outlined his plan to his subordinates.

Epostle
10-09-2012, 03:24 AM
Hate AKA Shacorai

Deep within the prison known as Hate, an entity begins to become awakened at the sounds of war beginning to pick up. The sword began to talk to itself “Ahhhh, so he no longer holds me… but another one takes ahold of me…” The sword then began to enter inside Marcius’s mind while Marcius began to show the plans to his men.

“So… Mar’s gave me to you… how… fascinating.” The sword said to Marcius, laughing in a humorous tone. The demons tone did sound somewhat high pitched, but distorted at the same time. “Listen well Marcius… Mar’s knows nothing about me… so allow me to offer you my service.” The sword began to reach inside the very subconscious of Marcius’s mind as he began to watch all of Marcius’s memories. “So full of honor… you don’t know of defeat… but yet you fear the dead trash that stands across the bridge?” The sword then began to talk louder in Marcius’s mind. “Make sure you declare war on them. Instead of drawing your Gladius… draw me instead…” The sword said with a tone of assurance. “You will win with me… so what will it be Marcius… it will be up to you whether your men are protected from the impeding legions knocking on your doorstep. When you wielf me with the full acknowledgement that you will win with me… you… will have my service…” the sword began to laugh, taunting Marcius with it wanting to wield him instead.

Gabriel

“Eternum” Gabriel said as he began to get a feel for the place. “So it will be done… I will remove my mask if you help me get my blade back… but… I warn you… it will not be easy getting it back.” Gabriel said as he began to walk forward. “So my friend… let us travel. We have much walking to do… and introducing. You may call me Gabriel.” He said, continuing his pace along the lines of the land. Not knowing of what could happen along his trail, Gabriel was excited, though he didn’t show it. If anything, Gabriel was worried about the wear-abouts of his sword.

“I know I am taking lead on a place I do not know, but where is your shelter around this place… kind person?” He said stretching his self out to keep himself limber. Gabriel was always on the defensive in case anything odd or suspicious came to pass. While he waited a response, Gabriel’s energies began to repair the torn garments that he suffered while in the battle with Destruction. Particles of energy began to illuminate out, making all the holes and tears fade away slowly.

The Bartender
10-09-2012, 10:42 AM
As the sun set, Ann's ships lifted off, followed by Talos. It was a clear night and so the chance of angering some god was not very high.
The convoy of five aircraft flew over the city of Emor, not as quickly as earlier during the day, even Ann knew how important sleep was and she didn't want to disturb the people of Emor.
She observed the 18th legion that had left the city during the day and decided to follow it;
"To all ships, activate stealth-engines and follow that legion with lowest speed." Ann informed her subordinates and received some short answers and then after 10 minutes the ships literally began to wanish from the night sky as the stealth technology began to work.

~~~~

Ann followed the 18th legion for the next days and witnessed their emerging with the prpably biggest army of the whole planet. But not much later they left the gargantuan army and moved toward west, following the river Minerva.
Ann had sent some un-manned droids to scout the surrounding areas for enemies and after few hours she received the information that an unknown army moved eastwards toward the 18th legion. This lightened Ann's eyes;
"To all units, seek a good hill or elevation not too far from the river. Also prepare the heavy artillery weapons in order to supply the Namorians with support fire. Also look for fords that the enemy could cross and invade Namoria. I don't want to lose to some strange legions and not beeing able to finish my mission, and for that we NEED the Namorians." She shouted into her microphone. Few hours later her ships landed on a hill about 10 kilometers from the river. It was high enough to see the river with clear eye and so the engineers began to mount Talos with a MRLS (Multiple Rocket Launch System) with cluster rockets armed with light plasma bombs.

~~~~

As the night fell, Ann could see how a part of the now quiet large enemy army left the main body and began to march the river upwards. This was good for Ann as now there would be no danger of harming the Namorians if there would be any cross hits. Ann moved one of her droids over the Namorian army and scanned the troops in order to find their commander. She was very suprised to see that it was the same man who she had made mad while barging into the throne room but she had no time to admire the man and so she flew right to him and started the holographic transmission. A small, transparent version of Ann appeared before the man and said;
"Good evening commander of the 18th Legion, I assume you remember me," Annsmiled and went forward, "I have built a garrioson about 10 kilometers from the river and I would advice you to keep your troops on halt and not to panic. I will help you a bit so you don't have to worry about the parting units of the enemys army." Ann giggled and then holograph wanished.

~~~~

"Target locked? Check, Distance? Check! Countdown; Three, two, one, fire." Ann gave commands to her engineers who had already prepared to reload the weapon.
With a loud crash, four rockets flew out of the big artillery unit on the back of Talos and flew toward the marching Romans; About 100 meters over them, the rockets "exploded" and set free a cloud of small bombs which hit the ground and soldiers exploding in green splatters and energy bolts, causing great deal of damage to the whole unit.
"Hit confirmed, casualities; over 50 kills and 100 injured. Prepare for the next assault." Ann gave orders as the engineers reloaded Talos.

Azazeal849
10-09-2012, 12:46 PM
The sword began to laugh, taunting Marcius with it wanting to weild him instead.

"Sir?" said tribune Cassius uncertainly. Marcius had fallen quiet, stopping in mid sentence. The legate blinked as if surfacing from a reverie.

"Nothing. Sorry." he said, and carried on outlining his plan, although now the savage grin on his face had been replaced by a thoughtful frown. That frown deepened when the hologram of Ann appeared, followed by a green flash through the walls of the tent and a thunderous, rolling boom.

"What in the hells was that?" Vorinius shouted, as a number of legionaries joined their commanders in running outside to watch the artificial lightning.

"Mars?" a centurion near Marcius breathed.

The commander shook his head. "Sky men."

Vorinius grunted as another crashing report split the night. "Let's hope they never decide to switch sides."


* * * * * *

Salvius halted, as in the failing light a dull flicker became apparent. It was coming from the road about 100 metres ahead of him. The centurion urged his mare off the cobbled path and into the loam beside the road where her hoofbeats would be muffled. He walked her slowly forward, his hand moving to the gladius scabbarded at his hip. As he came closer, he could make out a voice. It was speaking, as near as Salvius could tell, in perfect Namorian, though completely uncoloured by any regional accent.

"I know I am taking a lead on this place I do not know, but where is your shelter around this place...kind person?"

Salvius took stock, weighed up whether to use a commanding tone or a simple query, and decided on the latter. If the speakers were hostile, the surprise when they discovered he was a veteran legionary and not some incautious traveller would work in his favour.

"Salve!" he called out in Namorian, keeping his voice light, "Who goes there?"

Death of Korzan
10-09-2012, 04:25 PM
Minerva
"Hit confirmed, casualities; over 50 kills and 100 injured. Prepare for the next assault." Ann gave orders as the engineers reloaded Talos.

“You will not interfere, Earthborn.” A furious Godly voice echoed in Ann's mind, numbing her bodies and stripping her of the will to move. A purple flash of venomous light appeared before Ann, blinding her, before her vehicle lost power and fell to the ground. With next to no damages other than a fuel tank leak, Ann would be forced to get out of Talos. Her five convoy seemed to be missing, all the was left in the sky was a purple haze, as if they had been wiped from existence.

“There are greater things at work here, foolish Priestess.”The Godly voice seemed happier now that Ann had been pushed to the ground, but it was not one of the Sky gods, for the voice was female, and it sounded much more dangerous.

Meanwhile, over at the Legate's camp, the Legate had emerged from out of his tent and looked over Minerva, where he could clearly see the Namorian encampment. Septim raised his hand whilst staring intently at the water. He began chanting something; his fathers name. “Father, lend me your strength, Neptune, give me a creature from the depths of the Ocean!” His hand shot up and he yelled in surprise, at the same time, a geyser that would be easy to see from even the furthest reach of the Namorian camp shot up as well. A horrific high pitched roar seemed to fill the air, along with a putrid smell of fish. A single massive tentacle rose out of the depths.

“That'll keep them busy for the night.” Whilst a huge land walking Octopus pulled itself out of the depths.

Over by the detached group of Romans that Ann had 'murdered', something very disturbing was going on. A black mist seemed to arise next to the Roman bodies and it slowly slipped inside each of the Romans mouths, they awoke very suddenly, their wounds disappearing, before getting up again and continuing to move. The voice spoke in Ann's head again.

“Haven't you heard, Earthborn.” She spat the name like an insult. “Thanatos is missing, the powerful dead have been reborn and may not be killed until he is put back in position, or one replaces him. Flee for your lives, pitiful mortal.”

The Romans who had detached continued moving to the bridge, and this new information seemed to say that they would be very difficult to stop.

Epostle
10-09-2012, 10:50 PM
"Salve! Who goes there?" A voice called out to Gabriel. Gabriel turned to face what seemed like another human. Are there humans on this planet as well? It was rather surprising. Usually uncharted areas are filled with horrors and abberations, but this place seemed quite fit for normal life.

The man’s tone came off kind of stern to Gabriel. Did this human really try to establish his dominance? Why was he trying to talk down to Gabriel? Hopefully he wasn’t aggressive because Gabriel did not feel like fighting for now unless he had to. He seemed fairly harmless though. If the man wanted to attack Gabriel, most likely he would have done it already.

"Where do you come from? What do you want with us?” Gabriel said without any emotion, trying to show the human that he wasn’t intimidated.

Azazeal849
10-10-2012, 06:26 PM
"Where do you come from? What do you want with us?"

"Us?" Salvius repeated, his hand still curled round the hilt of his gladius beneath his cloak, "Who travels with you?"

He guided his mare back on to the path, and for the first time registered the man standing half in shadow behind the first. And then he let out a surprised laugh. There were few men in Combrogia who wore an albino wolf pelt as a cloak, and fewer still who carried swords with crossguards shaped into likenesses of the same animal.

"Koronus?" the centurion said, "Fuck the gods, I'd been hoping to run into you."

Rather than talk down to the man from atop his horse, he swung himself out of the saddle to speak to him on more equal footing. The man might not be of Namorian blood, but he had already proved his worth to the Imperium. A scrape and crunch of metal as Salvius landed betrayed the armour he was wearing beneath his travelling cloak.

"What happened around here? This whole forest reeks of killing."


* * * * * *

Perhaps it was fortunate that most of the Legio Fulminata was already awake, having received orders from commander Marcius not to pitch camp yet, and those few who were dozing on the ground had been woken by Ann's short-lived barrage. Less fortunate was the thing that was clawing its way up the northern river bank towards them. The Namorian picket line at the ford was already running back to the comparative safety of the main army.

"Oh." said one of Marcius' tribunes, his words almost comical in their lack of inflection. "Oh shit."

"To arms!" Marcius roared, slashing his arm at his tribunes to get them to rejoin their cohorts before starting on the nearest centurions, "To arms, you bastards! Form up!"

The centurions took up the call and training overrode shock as the vanguard cohorts began to deploy into their battle formation, men grabbing their shields and javelins as they ran. Despite the feverish haste, with so many men it seemed to take an agonisingly long time for the first rank of centuries to form their line. All the while the huge sea-monster continued to heave its way across the narrow flood plain, its vast head pulsating irregularly as it grappled for purchase with thick tentacles. Atop its massive head sat two luminous eyes with horizontal slit pupils, and short breathing tubes pulsed wetly in and out on either side of its head. It was awkward and clumsy out of the water, but its advance towards the Namorian legion was implacable. Marcius heard a familiar laughing in his ears, and at his hip Hate began to rattle in its scabbard, shaking of its own accord.

"No!" he said, not realising he had spoken aloud as he seized the sword's hilt in an attempt to still it. The sword ceased vibrating, but the laughter intensified.

Cursing, Marcius drew his gladius and urged his black stallion down the hill to the rear of 3rd cohort, which had assembled into a hastily-formed frontline. His bodyguards rushed to catch up. The centurions below them were roaring orders from the right flanks of their units, attempting to execute their standard combat doctrine against a decidedly non-standard opponent.

"Cast spears!"

Black-shafted javelins designed to pierce mail and drag down shields arced through the air in a whistling rain, thudding into the monster's vast head. The giant sea creature let out another high-pitched shriek. Marcius' stallion, normally a fiery and mean-spirited beast, reared and shied away from the awful noise, and the commander's bodyguard yelped as they struggled to control their own horses. Ahead of them the monster's body and limbs rippled with a sudden flash of colour, before fading back to their previous corpse-grey. Now bristling with spears, the monster lurched forward with increased vigour.

"We're just pissing it off..." Marcius heard someone shout, and in his head the laughter that only he could hear grew louder.

A second volley of spears rained down on the monster, each one striking home with a wet slap. Some fell clear, fist-sized droplets of something black oozing from the holes they had left. Others were pulled away by a sweep of the creature's writhing tentacles. Many stayed stuck fast, but didn't seem to inconvenience the creature enough to stop it or turn it back.

"Hold!" a centurion barked as the sea monster lurched closer, "Hold!"

A grey-fleshed tentacle slapped down into the closest century, crushing an entire file beneath its weight. The tentacle raked back, dragging a furrow through the centre of the formation. Men frantically hacked at the limb as it whickered past, iron swords struggling to bite into the monster's slippery, rubbery skin. The giant octopus whipped its arm back, oozing black ichor from dozens of tiny cuts, and flailed out with its other limbs. One thumped sidelong into the braced shields of the front rank, who reeled back. They were only kept upright by the men behind, who cursed and shoved as they tried to help their comrades back into position.

Gladii stabbed and slashed, but did little to deter the moster as it heaved itself forward again, this time casting five or six of its arms forward to envelop the unit, as if it perceived the 80 men as a single item of prey. The formation dissolved as tentacles hooked round the flanks and slapped down across the centre, men falling in all directions as the beast knocked them sprawling before disappearing beneath the wide membrane flaps that stretched between its limbs. The supporting centuries, swinging round to attack the giant monster from the sides, were halted by a barrier of flailing tentacles. The front ranks of both formations disappeared as the monster's back limbs slapped through them, sweeping the men from their feet and sending them cartwheeling across the grass like broken mannequins. Both centurions and a standard bearer were among the casualties.

The formations behind were hurling their javelins at the glistening bulk at the centre of the tentacle mass, and those who had already cast their missiles were edging backwards rather than charge home against the beast. The sea monster was scooping its free arms through the butchered remains of the first century, raking men both living and dead towards it. As Marcius watched, the beast rocked back to reveal a pointed beak on its underside, which opened to vomit a tide of dark slime over the crushed and mangled legionaries. An acidic, burning smell rose into the air, and there was screaming and thrashing from some of the men who still lived.

"Fall back!" Marcius shouted, trying to make himself heard over the panicked shouts of his men. "Use your javelins! Fall b-"

"Look out!" screamed one of the commander's bodyguards as the tip of a long, snake-like tentacle flicked out towards them. It coiled under the legs of Marcius' horse, and sensing the body within its grip, contracted. The stallion screamed as it was ripped off its feet and into the air, the legatus still trapped on top of it with sucker pods the size of dinner plates clawing at his cloak and armour. Marcius' yell was swallowed by the squeal of his horse, the high-pitched shriek of the monster, and the piercing, mocking laughter of Hate vibrating in its scabbard. He hacked blindly at the tentacle with his ceremonial gladius, carving great chunks out of the tip but doing nothing to stop it from carrying him up and over in a wide arc. The tentacle convulsed and Marcius lost his grip on his sword, the gold-etched blade tumbling away into the chaos below.

"Use me!" the voice in Marcius' head hissed, its laughter abruptly dying as the tentacle holding Marcius and his horse began to curl down towards the sea monster's waiting beak. "USE ME!"

In desperation, Marcius seized the hilt of his second sword. Hate seemed to leap out of its scabbard with a savage glee, dragging Marcius' arm with it as it swung down towards the monster. Black fire boiled around the blade and streamed down straight into the creature's gaping mouth, washing outwards to swirl and coruscate over its head and limbs. Grey flesh instantly seared black, dark ichor erupting from cracks in the ruptured skin.

A terrifying shriek overwhelmed Marcius' hearing, a white wall of noise intense enough to blind him as well as deafen. He was vaguely aware of falling several metres through the air and landing hard on the sticky ground. He didn't see the monster hurl itself backwards with all the strength its clumsy, land-restricted body could muster. He didn't see its skin ripple white as it thrashed its way back down the flood plain, back towards the river.

"It's retreating!" tribune Vorinius shouted to the stunned Namorians around him, seizing command of the situation. "Drive it back!"

Slowly, the surviving legionaries pulled themselves back into formation and began to advance through the black slime left in the monster's wake. Some held their javelins before them as spears as they edged forward, sheltering behind their shields and keeping distance from the monster's tentacles as they herded it backwards. Others threw their missiles after the retreating giant, the points thunking home into its pale body. The beast shrieked again and squirted a thick arc of black ink in its wake, the jet carrying enough pressure to bowl over several legionaries and cover dozens more with the thin oil. But it didn't lash out with its arms, only flail its way back and back, until it plunged into the river. The dark water boiled, turning black with whorls of ink and blood as the beast thrashed its way into the deeper water and sank out of sight, leaving only an oily slick and its lingering reek behind.

Commander Marcius regained his senses in time to be helped up by one of his bodyguards. His cloak was tattered, and stinking of the sea-monster's greasy taint. He was not seriously hurt, though the same could not be said of his horse. The black stallion lay a few metres away, kicking feebly, with great circular welts carved across its body by the monster's suckers. All around Marcius were dead or crippled legionaries. 3rd cohort had been the first to rank up facing the beast and it had taken the casualties, with nearly a hundred of its men lying in the churned grass. The cohort's second century, the monster's first target, lay in an almost perfect square where they had been scythed down. Some men were groaning and crawling their way out of the bloody shambles, but many more didn't move, and those closest to the muddy furrow where the monster had dragged itself lay shapeless and lumpen in the pool of sticky saliva, exposed bone gleaming wetly where the acid had melted away their faces. Men from the unengaged cohorts went back and forth, urged on by centurions. The scarves that protected their necks from armour chafe were now wrapped around their mouths and noses to serve as air filters against the stink. They helped those who were merely dazed to their feet, and carried the more seriously wounded back to the surgeons who were frantically setting up their equipment, not having expected to be needed so soon.

Near Marcius, on a patch of grass left untrampled by the monster's rampage, lay Hate. The sword was silent, lying still and unobtrusive, its black aura subdued.

"Sir?" said a voice behind Marcius, making him turn. It was tribune Cassius, dismounted, carrying Marcius' ceremonial gladius which he had recovered from the wreckage. He held the blade out to Marcius and the legatus took it with a nod, thrusting it home into its sheath. He was glad to have his real sword back - even if it had been Hate that had saved his life. Marcius hesitated, before going to retrieve the fallen demon sword also. It still felt warm to the touch, although it did not vibrate or pulse in his hand as he picked it up. Perhaps its power had been temporarily spent - or perhaps the demon within was content to merely watch in silence, letting Marcius digest the implications of what had just happened without its input. Marcius considered handing the weapon to one of his bodyguards to stow away in his baggage, but something made him return the sword to its scabbard at his side. However, it was around the traditional gladius, with its devotional etching IPQE, that his hand closed as he turned to his regrouping officers.

"What now, sir?" Cassius asked uncertainly, looking over his shoulder at the soldiers of 3rd cohort as they trudged back to the rest of the belatedly-mobilised legion. The picket line at the ford was being reinstated, and doubled, but even so the men kept glancing back at the river as they marched. Others were staring uneasily at the torn-up ground, and at the number of dead and wounded that the creature had created in the space of a mere five minutes. All of them were trained men, but now the immediate rush of the sea monster's defeat had faded, the delayed horror and the sight of their broken comrades strewn across the hill were taking their toll. The men were still determined, but they were frightened.

"The plan still stands." Marcius replied. "We patch up the wounded, then we move. And somebody see to my horse." He pointed to his black stallion, which was still neighing piteously as it tried to raise its head. "If you can't help him, put him out of his misery."

"Shouldn't we dig a grave for the dead, sir?"

"We don't have time." Marcius snapped, a note of steel entering his voice. He closed his eyes for a moment, and reined in his anger. Every muscle in his body was violently protesting its recent abuse, and his ears were still ringing. "We'll see to them later. Tomorrow. After we make those red-crest bastards pay."

As the dark evening crept towards midnight, the 18th legion licked its wounds, broke camp and marched, as its commander had ordered. The Fulminata had found themselves caught up in an unfamiliar storm, but they had weathered it. Despite this partial comfort, Legate Septim got his wish - few Namorian soldiers slept that night.

The Bartender
10-10-2012, 08:50 PM
Ann cursed in name of all known gods, even the most evil ones as her unit had been destroyed by some idiotic and selfish godess who directly messed up with the mortal;
"You damn bitch, don't you have any self-control!? You should just keep your dirty hands in your own realm up there!!!" She shouted into the dark sky,
"Damn, now I must leave Talos here... Maybe I should join that legion at the river in order to get back into Emor and call from there new ships. Aaargh, This is so frustrating!!!" She screamed and kicked a small stone near her feet.

~~~~

After Ann had made all preparations inside Talos such as activating the emergency defend mechanisms and energy saving systems she got out of the great metal colossus and jumped into ground with her rather small backpack with all needed items she would need. She also carried her sword in her hand as she began to run toward the river and the army of Namorians which seemed to have some problems with the huge octopus that had appeared from the river.
A son of Poseidon? Why is every god against us directly messing with the mortals? Ann cursed in her mind as she increased her speed and rushed to the river. Luckily she was a soldier and had trained for this kind of situations and even thought her actual clothing wasn't the best for direct combat, it was propably better than those glumsy armors of the Namorians as the bodysuit she wore was made out of the latest version of Kevlar.
I so hate this kind of extreme situations... Why did this have to happen now when I'm on this damned planet? Ann thought nd ground her teeth.

~~~~

After about half an hour, Ann reached the river only to see that the 18th legion had already left the ford as well as the strange enemy as well but from the signs you could say that they were both moving the stream upwards so she began to follow them. She didn't notice the fact that also the soldiers she had fired at were nowhere to be seen...


^^^^^^

Numiera heard strange noices not far away and decided to look what it was. One horse and... 2... no 3 persons... I should better stay out of their sight or they could attack me like everyone else I have seen... The young woman thought and jumped from one tree branch to other without making almost any voice.
When she could see to the small forest road, Numiera stopped and hid behind a tree that covered her almost completely but let her look throught the leaves and observe the men down on the road;
The one with the horse was obviously a soldier of the Namorian army. Numiera could say it due of the harsh and stern voice of the man and the way he acted. And not even that, horses were a privilege of the rich or the army and due of the lack of bodyguards, the man was propably a scout of some sorts.
The two other men were different, in many ways and the other one even smelled like a wolf, was he a barbarian? What came to the other, his smell was even stranger, he smelled good, like if he had just bathed even if his clothes were quiet ragged and you could see he was on the road for a quiet time for now.
Numiera was curious and tried to get even closer to the three strange men...

La Volpe
10-12-2012, 03:37 PM
"I was wondering the same thing." Kuronus said, stepping fully into the light. Catching the sound of armor clanking, Kuronus registered that it was a solider, but this man was taller then any normal Namorian and the square face of the man left only one person. "Gabriel, stand down, this man is no threat to us. Hail Salvius, what brings you out here? And why were you searching for me?" he asked, walking up to shake the mans hand. Kuronus pulled back his hood, "Lets talk at my camp, not here where there may be eyes and ears on us. The camp is just in the copse of trees over there." He said point to the east.

Azazeal849
10-15-2012, 05:28 PM
Dawn broke bright and clear over the Namorian border, but the red-crested Roman legionaries camped between the river and the Combrogian forest were already awake. The tribunus laticlavius, commander of the 2-legion detachment and a close confidant of Legate Septim, shaded his eyes against the rising sun as he overlooked the ford.

They had made it, in spite of Ann's ungodly interference. It could have easily been a disaster – the devastating barrage had ceased almost as soon as it had begun, but the psychological damage had already been done. Every man under the Legate's command was a seasoned veteran, but they couldn't continue to advance into demonic fire that incinerated a whole centuries at a time. No man could. After the head of the column had been obliterated the men behind had scattered in all directions. That could have easily been the end of the Roman flank attack, but the Legate himself had stepped in, riding in amongst the chaos and somehow succeeding in rallying the men with nothing but his voice and his own willpower.

Though delayed, the march had continued. No-one in the Roman legions wanted to let Septim down after such an inspiring display. The advance was slower than before, the men wary of another attack, but they had reached the upriver ford in a little under 5 hours and been able to catch some sleep before the dawn came, and with it the second phase of their attack. The tribunus scanned the deserted northern bank, assessing the situation. With the ford unguarded, he had sent his cavalry over the river first to scout the nearest hills for any signs of an ambush. None appeared to be forthcoming.

“They're definitely not here.” he said to his chief centurion, “They must have decided to concentrate all their force at the other ford. Send a galloper back to the Legate; tell him we're crossing the river and hooking round the Pretenders' eastern flank as planned.”

“They could easily be hiding in the hills between here and the other ford, sir.” his centurion offered.

“True.” the tribunus admitted, “But our detachment still outnumbers their entire force 2 to 1. If the cavalry finds anything, we'll surround them and repay their intended damage with interest.”

The centurion grinned. “That'll be right, sir.”

“Start the crossing. We've got a three hour march back to whatever these thin-blooded bastards left to try and stop the Legate.”


* * * * * *

Legate Septim himself was also awake, though as he scanned the crossing that his own 2 legions were to use, he saw a rather different picture. The handiwork of his father's sea monster was clearly in evidence; Namorian corpses were scattered on the narrow flood plain between the river and the hills. The blue-cloaked pretenders had not even stayed to bury their dead, having apparently retreated and left the ford undefended.

Well, the Legate corrected himself, not quite undefended. A force of blue-cloaked infantry was spread out on the opposite bank to block the northern shoreline of the shallow river ford. Septim counted 8 century standards, so if the Namorians continued their trend of brazenly copying the Roman style then that suggested that this was the enemy legion's first cohort – their best men. Behind the infantry, near the bottom of the hill behind, what looked liked an entire legion's worth of ballista platforms were set up to provide a modicum of artillery support.

Septim gave an amused grunt. Enough to delay a crossing, yes, but if the Namorian commander was banking on the ballistae stopping his advance then he was about to be sorely disappointed. Septim didn't know whether the rest of the Namorian legion had marched to try and stop his flanking legions, or simply retreated to avoid their inevitable encirclement. He suspected the former, as he doubted the Namorian commander would simply abandon his best cohort to cover his escape. Regardless, his plan was still the same. Sweep aside this covering force, then turn upriver and link up with the rest of his army, just as they would do if they did not meet strong resistance themselves. Whatever happened, the blue-cloaks would either find themselves taken in the flank, or face the might of all four of Septim's legions once they regrouped, this time in the Namorian homeland.

With the ford defended, the Legate could not send his cavalry scouts over first. Still, all in good time. They would find the rest of the enemy legion soon enough, and crush it.

“Sound the advance!” the Legate shouted at the top of his voice. “First legion, forward!”


* * * * * *

As the most experienced infantry commander, tribune Varinius had been given the dubious honour of commanding the first cohort – or, as the cynical Namorian more accurately thought of it, the bait. He was going through his time honoured pre-battle ritual of shaving when a blast of trumpets announced the red-crests' advance. Varinius looked up briefly, and then turned back to the silver mirror one of his men was holding for him. The tribune maintained that if he was going to die in any given battle, then he was bloody well going to go to the afterlife looking presentable. He wiped his steel razor clean on a piece of fabric and carefully put it away in his saddlebag before hoisting himself onto his chestnut mare. He also maintained that the technique of forging iron into steel was the best thing the dwarves of Dun Moriga had brought to the Imperium. Specifically, steel for shaving razors. Never mind the cannons and the swords and the fancy armour and all the rest of it – the steel razors were what Varinius appreciated most. The old bronze and iron ones never seemed to hold a damned edge, but a steel one could go for weeks without needing sharpened.

Varinius rubbed a hand over his newly smooth chin as he watched the red-crests begin splashing into the ford, rank after rank and cohort after cohort with shields up and standards held high. It was all very pretty, but there were far too many of the bastards. Varinius knew that holding the Romans back for an extended period wasn't part of the plan, but he was beginning to wonder if they would manage even five minutes. Varinius' men formed a thick line across the fordable part of the river, standing just out of the water on the bank. The stakes that each man carried for fortifying the camp every night were hammered into the soft soil at the river's edge, about a pace in front of the line as a minor barrier to the oncoming Romans. Each man carried his pair of thin-bladed javelins in his shield hand. As the Romans waded closer, the water receding from their chests to their waists as they approached the northern bank, Varinius heard his centurions giving the order.

“Cast spears!”

The Romans saw their Namorian counterparts draw back their arms, and they reacted smoothly and efficiently. A ripple of red rose up from the leading ranks as the men raised their painted shields high to receive the volley. A moment later the black cloud of javelins descended. Each one carried a 2 foot spike designed to punch through armour, and despite the shields many of them speared through to skewer the men behind. A number of Romans went down, screaming and thrashing as the water around them swirled red. One man struggled with both his arm and his shield pinned to his chest, the javelin having pierced both before slicing through his banded breastplate. Many more Romans stumbled as the iron spikes of the javelins bent, dragged down by the weight of the wooden shaft and taking the men's shields with them. Rather than throw away their curved shields or stop to try and pull the spears out, the affected men instantly ducked towards the back of their formation, each allowing a comrade to instantly take his place. In this way they neither held up the advance, nor opened up a gap in the front line.

A second volley of javelins followed, with the same effect as the first.

“Draw swords!” the Namorian centurions roared, and there was a hiss and scrape as 500 gladii flashed into the early morning sunlight. Iron-rimmed shields banged together as the Namorian legionaries tightened their front line.

The Romans didn't stop to cast their own missiles. They continued advancing, conscious of getting stuck in the water and holding up the ranks of men who were pressing up behind. Ahead of them, eyes either wide with fear or narrowed with determined defiance, the Namorian legionaries could only await the inevitable contact.

It was a surreal clash. There was no break of formation; no screaming charge. The Romans kept the same steady, inexorable pace as they covered the last few metres to their blue counterparts, dark eyes glaring between the rims of shield and helmet. And then, with a sudden eruption of violence, the lines met. Men punched forward with their shields, the large iron bosses ringing against each other as they sought to knock their opponent off balance and create an opening. In return their opponents snatched at shield rims, trying to drag their protective cover down and away. Some lost hands to slashing gladii. Others succeeded in pulling the shields down, ramming swords forward into exposed faces, or pulling the men forward to be speared in the churning water by legionaries from the second ranks. Namorians tried to use the height of the bank to stab down, swords rebounding off shields or cleaving through red-plumed helmets. Romans struggled past the sharpened stakes to try and slash at their opponents' feet and legs.

A tide-line of dead and crippled men began to build up between the two forces, men stabbing madly at the fallen enemy even as they stepped forward to fill the gaps left by their own dead. Wounded men cursed and fought on, hemmed in by their own comrades behind. The river was full of Romans, and as they began to bunch up behind the swearing, screaming front line, the battle dissolved from a fight into a pushing match. With no room left to swing their swords, the men sheltered behind their shields and heaved, stabbing at any gap in the enemy defence. With the weight of numbers behind them, the Romans forced the Namorians back a step, gaining a foothold on the river bank. For a moment the pressure lessened and there was another brief flurry of swords, glancing off shields and armour or biting home with high-pitched shrieks and a welling of blood. Another line of screaming, moaning casualties formed at the new tide mark before the shields banged together and the pushing began again.

Now on even ground, the Namorians were slowly being pushed back. Varinius watched, and knew that soon there would be enough space for the Romans pouring over the river to sweep round the flanks of his thinner line and crush it. It was time for an orderly retreat, and that was the hardest test of nerve and discipline for both a legion and its commander.

“Fall back!” Varinius shouted, riding along the back of the line, “Fall back!”

The response was slow at first, some centuries pulling back from the crush before others, and for a moment the front line became ragged with Romans stabbing forward through the gap. The Namorians fended the blows off with their shields and hacked their way clear. The Romans stepped forwards, and the Namorians stepped back faster, opening a gap of a few metres between the two armies. Roman centurions roared orders, and with a clatter of shields the red-crests straightened their line and began a steady march forward, shields thrust ahead of them, swords waiting behind.

“Back to the hill!” Varinius urged his men, wheeling his horse around and kicking her back down the line. “Back to the hill!”

The Namorians turned and began running.

A less disciplined force might have broken forward in a wild charge to exploit the enemy retreat, cutting them down from behind. Not the Romans. They maintained their steady forward march, spreading out as more and more of them gained a foothold on the northern bank.

Legate Septim, who was just urging his own white horse into the river, was pleased with how the battle was progressing.

“Press on!” he shouted to his men as they flowed past, a sea of red and silver surging around him into the water, “Continue the advance!”

Though the first clash was over, his men were still dying. The ballistae on the hill had opened fire, the torsion-hurled spears thunking into the ranked centuries of his front line. The formations rippled as men were hurled backwards, shields and armour no defence against the heavy bolts.

“Close down that artillery!” the Legate roared.

The first Roman legion pressed on, closing ranks around their fallen as they advanced towards the line of bolt throwers. The retreating Namorian first cohort halted and turned round at the bottom of the hill, hastily reforming its line for what looked like a futile last stand. And that was when Decius Marcius sprung his trap.

Epostle
10-15-2012, 09:28 PM
"Hail Salvius, what brings you out here? And why were you searching for me?" he asked, walking up to shake the man's hand.

"A mission to save the whole bloody Imperium." Salvius said laconically, his craggy face splitting into one of his trademark toothy grins. "And I need the biggest bunch of hardasses I can find to help me."

Koronus pulled back his hood. "Let's talk at my camp, not here where there may be eyes and ears on us. The camp is just in the copse of trees over there." he said, pointing to the east.

Gabriel sensed that the new man was beginning to get defensive. As the man then grabbed at the hilt of his sword, but then he acknowledged Koronus. Turning his head, Gabriel then saw Koronus starting to advance as he told Gabriel to stand down. Gabriel was finally going to be able to get some shelter, even though it was just a camp. A camp was a lot better than where he came from. Destruction's realm was not a picnic in the slightest, especially for a normal mortal. Gabriel had no intention of drawing his blade to this newcomer, especially since Koronus knew about him.

"So you two are...friends I see." Gabriel acknowledged.

"Of sorts." said Salvius. "When I was still just a legionary he was one of the auxilliaries assigned to my patrol. He knew the forest better than anyone and he saved us from more than a few rebel ambushes." He turned to Koronus. "Do you still live in the forest village down south? What's been happening here? There's talk of a full blown invasion here in Combrogia - Hercine and Dun Moriga too. Even the almighty Emperor's bricking himself."

At that moment, Gabriel sensed another life presence.

"I grow tired of waiting, so let's move to your camp quickly...and one more thing..." Gabriel then paused. "I suppose you can come too, girl. So come on out if you wish." he said, turning his head towards the girl.

Salvius turned in surprise as Gabriel pointed, and a thin figure peeked out between the branches of a nearby tree. Totally silent and camouflaged in green and brown, Salvius hadn't even noticed them. It was a girl, dressed in woodsman's cotton and leather. The tight-fitting clothing clung to her frame, accentuating how slender she was. Salvius guessed that she couldn't be more than 15 or 16 years old - barely old enough for marriage. She had the pale complexion of a southerner and wide, staring eyes.

She may have been young, but Salvius still instantly went for his sword. In his previous campaigns in Combrogia, even the children had acted as spies for the barbarian rebels, reporting the movements of Imperial troops.

"Who are you?" he barked at the girl, "What are you doing up there?"

He gave her only a second to answer before he started striding menacingly towards the tree she was hiding in.

The Bartender
10-16-2012, 09:05 AM
Ann had slowed down in order to store her strength for later and thus she ran throught the whole night, only to hear the horns of the enemy as they seemed to process into attack. Ann had no intention to meet them face-on, not with her momentary equipment. If she still would have Talos, then she could just crush them but now she was only armed with only one sword and a handgun as a spare...
Ann jumped into the near-by river and began to swim toward the direction from where the noces of fight came. As she came nearer bodies began to come against her, water was also bloody and the stench of death was strong. Then she saw the fight, a fierce fight, a whole egion of the "red capes" against Namorians who were totally in disadvantage in numbers, propably a bait to lure the enemy on the other side of the river. A good trap indeed... Ann thought.
She decided to join the battle and dove into the dark water of the River Minerva. After about 100 meters, Ann came up from the water only few meters from the flank of the Red Capes. She left her backpack on the river bank and drew her sword. Like an assassin she moved inside the enemy lines which were now already out of the river and without being noticed, she swung her sword which she usually used as a decoration or ceremonial weapon but actually it was quiet a masterpiece of a sword as the blade was imbued with diamond dust making it harder than any normal sword.
She killed about five legionnaires before the rest even understood what had happened, first then someone shouted;
"An enemy inside the lines!"
After that, it was a chaos, men turned around and those next to Ann tried to slash her but due of the tight place inside the lines they couldn't attak her with full force and even when they hit Ann's clothes took most of the impact and let th sword slide off her skin and protect her from cuts.
"Come here you wermins, I will cut you into pieces!" Ann shouted while swinging her sword anew, cutting down three soldiers.

***


"I suppose you can come too, girl. So come on out if you wish." he said, turning his head towards the girl.

Numiera flinced as the strangest of the three men noticed her but tried to stay silent and not move hoping they wouldn't notice her (Naive girl, they aready saw her). But as the soldier seemed to have seen her as well;

"Who are you?" he barked at the girl, "What are you doing up there?"
numiera almost fell off from the tree but managed to keep her balance. But then the man came toward her and Numiera began to panic, she puled her hood over her head to cover her face and head so they wouldn't attack her and jumed on the next branch and then on the next before reching the ground. She then tried to run into the opposite direction from where the man was coming but ripped into a root and fell down, facing the man as her hood fell back on her shoulders revealing her face;
In the dark forest it was propably hard see but when you were near enough it was obvious Numiera wasn't just a normal girl, out of her long, back hair were sticking out half a dozend of blood red, about 2" long horns, her eyes were red and black with pupils like a snake and on her cheeks there were three vertical stripes like scratch marks.
She tried to get up but her bow had caught itself in something and nailed her int the ground;
"Do...do...don't hurt me..." Numiera whimpered while covering her head with her arms...

Azazeal849
10-16-2012, 02:37 PM
"Do...do...don't hurt me..." Numiera whimpered while covering her head with her arms.

"Oh bloody hell." Salvius swore as he stared down at her, "What are you?"

He knew what his first guess would be, and despite the girl's pitiable state he didn't lower his sword. Both history and Namorian folklore were too full of tales where demons used sympathy to trick their prey into letting down their guard. So was this it? Were demons abroad in the Imperium? That would certainly explain why the invading armies had apparently appeared out of nowhere. And the powerful magical aid they would need to do so would explain why the Emperor was so scared.

"What are you?" he asked Numiera again, this time more forcefully.


* * * * * *

In a surge of blue, the rest of the 18th legion appeared at the top of the ridge overlooking the river, having remained concealed on the reverse slope. Infantry marched double time down the hill to support the blooded first cohort, while the light cavalry under tribune Cassius cantered to either side to secure the flanks and sweep round the sides of the Romans, maintaining a threatening distance.

The leading Roman units had not broken formation to chase Varinius and the retreating first cohort, and so they still had a strong front line. Nevertheless, they instinctively checked as the new enemies appeared. Having pressed on across the flood plain unit by unit as they arrived, to attack the ballistae who continued to fire at them, the first Roman legion was strung out across the ford and the northern bank. Not only that, but the far-right century seemed to have stopped in its tracks, the eighty men hemming in around a single figure near the centre. The front line might be strong, but it was dangerously exposed. The commanding centurions realised the peril and began to call for a more concentrated defence to be formed, when the final piece of Marcius' trap revealed itself.

Rolling up to the top of the hill came the weapons that gave the Thundering Legion its name – two dozen cast-iron cannon crewed by Dun Morigan auxilliaries. These dwarves were Imperial loyalists, in blue Namorian cloaks, and unusually for their kind they shaved their beards after the Namorian style. Their wide-muzzled cannons were etched with invocations and warnings in neat dwarvish script. Bringer of Ruin, read one; I Speak For The Emperor, read another; and one even bore the now redundant epithet, I Aim For Korzan's Balls. Dwarven engineers were eagerly sought after as volunteers for the Namorian legions, but most legions only boasted one or two of them, usually as sappers or blacksmiths. Though the Namorians had learned and copied many of the dwarves' ingenious technologies, there were some that only the Dun Morigans themselves could replicate. Cannons were one such technology, and these 24 guns had been a rare gift from the Dun Morigan vassal-king at the time of the 18th legion's founding. The Emperor gladly absorbed the cost of the horses to drag the guns and their ammunition, and the tools and expertise to maintain them, in return for the awesome firepower they provided.

The guns were already loaded, and with a turn of cranks and elevation levers the dwarf crewmen aimed them down towards the packed mass of Romans that stretched out below them. Then the chief gunners touched their smouldering wicks to the charged touch-holes, and the guns lurched back on their wheels as they stabbed fire and thunder into the river valley. They fired one after the other, a rolling volley designed to overwhelm with its extended noise and demoralise with the creeping inevitability of one gun following the next. The real damage, however, was done when the cannonballs crashed through the Roman lines.

From above, it looked as if an array of invisible scythes had ripped a bloody furrow through the Roman legion. The balls threw up a welter of blood and severed limbs as they skipped through the red-crest formations, before splashing into the river where they tore through even more bodies. Some balls were simple roundshot, others were chainshot that whistled and spun through the packed Romans leaving hideously mangled corpses in their wake. Some were fuzed shells designed to burst in the air above the Romans, flinging cones of shrapnel into their ranks at a speed no armour could protect against.

The Romans nearest the front had survived almost intact, the dwarves having aimed over their heads to avoid any risk of hitting their own infantry. Those infantry had run to the bottom of the hill and were now only 50 metres from the Romans. The red legionaries facing the attack could see and hear the screaming behind them, and as their support units staggered and tried to get back in formation, unable to help the front line, the exposed Romans began to edge backwards.

This time it was the Namorians who advanced (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZFaSyAXS3w), the mauled first cohort with them - marching forward in the wake of the crushing volley, while the faster-loading ballistae still whistled and spat over their heads.

"These men look like us!" legatus Marcius was shouting from behind the vanguard, striking a dramatic figure atop his replacement horse, "They talk like us, and maybe they even fight like us! But they are not Namorians! They say that we are imposters, an insult to whatever fallen race they claim to represent! I say to them, what kind of arrogance possesses them to pass this judgement? Our Imperium stretches across the whole of Eternum, while they are merely spectres of a civilization long crumbled to dust! I say that resurrection is for those who didn't get it right the first time! I say they are the insult! KILL THEM ALL!"

Legate Septim had survived the dwarves' barrage, and as he forced his way out of the water, he saw his advance guard standing on a knife edge. The second legion was still sitting uselessly on the other side of the river; the first could probably still fend off the Namorian counterattack, but it needed to pull together to muster an effective defence, something it could not do while stunned by the fire of these new weapons – one striking and deadly difference that the Pretenders showed from their Roman predecessors.

Raising his arms above his head, legate Septim began to chant.

Marcius was still riding behind first cohort, urging them forward, when the river began to boil. Neither side noticed at first; the 18th Legion pausing to lock shields at the bottom of the hill before surging forward, the Roman vanguard edging backwards towards the disordered rear cohorts. But both sides stopped as the bubbling behind them rose to a roar, and two vast columns of water shot up into the air either side of the Legate, who stood immobile on the northern bank. The water around the soldiers crossing behind him drained away, sucked up into the liquid pillars to expose the sandy riverbed. Septim gestured with his sword, and the suspended tide of water began to slide forward over his head, over the heads of his desperately rallying troops, and towards the Namorian artillery on the hill crest. The Namorian advance stopped in its tracks, men wavering as they stared up in horror at the tide of water looming above them. It slid forward, churning in midair.

And then halted, held back by an opposing tide of magical force.

Legatus Marcius stood with his right arm held high, concentric circles of black light pulsing out from the sword he held in his hand.

"I told you I would bring you victory." cackled the voice inside Marcius' head, "Do you trust me now?"

"No." Marcius growled though clenched teeth. He was fighting to hold the sword steady as it channelled its power, vibrating madly in his grip. "But I do trust Mars."

The water roiled and twisted like a living animal as the bands of force holding it suspended changed direction, carrying it back towards the rallying Roman legion. And there, above Septim's own troops, it broke.

To both Marcius and Septim, the entire scene seemed to play out in a kind of glorious, horrific slow motion. The formation that the Roman legion had been trying to regain on the northern flood plain simply dissolved as the flood crashed over them. Men lost their footing, were crushed under the water's weight, were swept away from their comrades as the tide drained back towards the river. The Fulminata, seeing the enemy line before them vanish, surged forward at a renewed pace, while the cavalry on the wings flooded into the gaps left between the few men still standing. The ground was hard in the summer sun and the tide washed almost straight off it, providing no impediment to the horses or the charging infantry who swept in behind them. Swords hacked and stabbed with cold efficiency, the relentless advance denying the Romans any chance to regroup and reform their ranks. There was nothing the red-crests could do but run, and as they ran, Cassius and his cavalry hacked them down.

Legate Septim, knocked from his horse, watched in horror as the first legion died. He was forced to turn as a thunder of hoofbeats sounded behind him, and saw a young tribune and his bodyguard riding hard towards him, swords whirling above their heads. The tribune shouted a challenge at the isolated Legate.

Septim threw out his hand, and roared something in an arcane tongue. Neptune wasn't only the god of water and sea creatures - he was also the god of horses. The Namorian cavalry shied, skidded and lurched to a halt at the Legate's command. Some horses lost their footing and tumbled into the mud, taking their riders with them, while Septim saw the tribune's horse twist aside and then rear to throw the man from its back. He landed hard, in a crash of armour. Septim called one of the riderless horses to him with another word, mounted it, and plunged back into the ford towards the safety of the southern bank, leaving Cassius and his bodyguard dazed in the mud. The flood of broken, disorganised men streaming back from the flood plain completely ignored them as they splashed into the ford and clawed their way back towards the dismayed second legion.


* * * * * *

"Forward!" Marcius roared to his troops. The Roman second legion, witnessing the defeat of the first and seeing the blue-cloaked Namorians advancing on the ford, switched to the defensive and formed up to block the crossing. Unsupported, the Fulminata infantry would never have broken through. But the dwarvish cannon still on the hill crest could reach the opposite bank, and they began to slash the Roman frontline into bloody ruin, one killing volley whistling into the enemy ranks every minute or so. Soon the Romans were forced to fall back out of range, and the Fulminata crossed the river unopposed. They advanced and engaged the Roman cohorts, who fought back doggedly until the Namorian cavalry, without tribune Cassius to lead them but confident and fresh from their first victory, swept away the Roman horsemen protecting their legion's left flank. Marcius quickly rode to the far right of his line and ordered the tenth cohort to swing round, biting into the Roman flank and rear. They rolled up the left side of Septim's army, sending the surrounded enemy cohorts reeling back in disorder. Legate Septim rallied his men, but they could not defend effectively from an attack on two sides. They stood, they died, and then, like the first legion, they began to turn and run.

An hour later, the second clash had concluded as decisively as the first. But the day was not over. A member of the cavalry screen that had been left on the northern bank with the artillery came galloping up to Marcius almost as soon as the second red-crest legion had routed. The messenger from the Roman tribunus laticlavius had arrived too late with his report that the other two legions had crossed the river unopposed, and Septim had been unable to send a warning back, but now a dust cloud in the distance heralded the two legions themselves marching on Marcius' rear. Still searching for Legatus Septim who had not been found among those dead or captured, Marcius was forced to wheel his tired but victorious legion round and back across the river to meet them. Left in their wake on both sides of the flood plain were the surgeons, using what little time they had before the two legions arrived to try and save some of the wounded.

Marcius ordered the Fulminata to draw up with their right flank protected by the river, redeployed the ballistae, and had the dwarves haul their cannons round to point east, towards the approaching red-crests. Then he let the men stand down. They had a little time to rest before the last two legions arrived for the final battle. The legatus himself stood at the top of the hill with the dwarves, congratulating the gunners on their work before scanning the hills around. The Roman column was marching hard, a dark red snake winding its way along the river road, and Marcius was watching it carefully to see if some of the last two legions would break off to try and turn his left flank.

"More of the bastards to kill." Varinius grunted sourly. "Will you be using that sword of yours again to speed things up, sir?"

Marcius laid a hand on the hilt of Hate, feeling it twitch in its scabbard.

"Only if I have to." he replied grimly, looking around at his assembled tribunes. "Where's Cassius?"

"With the medicus. Young fool took a tumble off his horse during the chase. He might be an up-and-coming politician but his riding skills could use some work."

"That'll do, Varinius." Marcius growled softly.

"What do you reckon they'll do, sir?" ventured another tribune, who was gazing upriver at the approaching Romans.

"No idea." Marcius admitted, "Though I'd like to see how they react when they see what we did to Legate Septim's men."

Marcius turned in his saddle and looked grimly down at the morning's work. In front of him tired but jubilant Fulminata legionaries sat in their squares to share bread and water, but behind him the ground on both sides of the river was stained black, and wretched with dead and dying men. Tendrils of red fouled the water at the river banks.

"Have you still got the two eagles we captured?" the legatus asked after a moment, his voice dispassionate.

During the battle, the Fulminata had hacked through two grimly-determined bodyguards to strike down the legion aquilifers and capture their gold-topped eagle staffs. The soldiers who had done so could expect centurion promotions, provided they survived the retribution of the other half of the Roman army. The men of the 18th had also claimed a number of lesser standards, either by crashing through the knots of men trying to rally around them, or by finding them discarded on the field amid piles of dead red-crests. But it was the eagles that were the true prize. If the parallels between the Namorians and the red-crests held, then the standards represented the pride of the legion and the authority of their Empire. The men assigned to carry and guard the standard - and indeed any other legion soldiers nearby - would rather die than see it fall, and so its capture usually symbolised the utter defeat of a legion. To date, only one Namorian eagle had been lost in combat, and the disgrace had been so great that the destroyed legion had never been reformed.

"Yes sir." one of Marcius' tribunes answered with some satisfaction, and beckoned two legionaries forward. The soldiers held the blood-splashed eagles they had captured with a mixture of pride and unease, because the similarity between them and the Fulminata's own standard was disconcerting. Marcius noted that the red fabric that hung from the enemy eagles was stitched with the letters SPQR, rather than the familiar IPQE. For a moment, Marcius glanced down the hill at his own legion standard. It was being held proudly aloft behind the central cohorts, even while the rest of the army sat at rest, by an honour guard of the legion's bravest soldiers.

Marcius turned back to the two men holding the Roman standards and said, "Put them somewhere where the red-crests can see them." He smiled wryly. "Perhaps we can convince them to surrender."

"Or we'll just piss them off." Varinius countered idly.

La Volpe
10-17-2012, 02:06 AM
"Easy Salvius, if she had been here to hurt us, she would have attacked already." Kuronus said walking up to the girl, "What is your business here? and what exactly are you?" he dropped to a crouch to better look at her, "Well what ever you are, your not human... at least not fully." Quickly standing back up, Kuronus gestured towards his camp, "Come, the night grows long, and it seems there is much to be said, and I'd like to get at least some sleep before the sun rises again." With that Kuronus started walking without looking back. He knew they would follow, they had no place safe to camp at, so they would follow. What a night this was turning out to be, and here I thought this day was going to be boring he thought as he walked on.

The Bartender
10-17-2012, 01:14 PM
Ann was all covered in Roman blood. She had killed at least 20 soldiers before she recognized the sound of cannon fire and she had decided to leave. She pierced through the weak and demoralized line of legionnaires and jumped into the river to reclaim her goods, followed by flying pilums which she either dodged or blocked with her arm.
I love this new suit! Ann thought while running. Indeed it had saved her life and left her totally unharmed with exception of many bruises which could be tended later.
She took her backpack just before the water began to move strangely and Ann decided to leave it. If she hadn't already seen many crazy things, she would have thought she had become mad as the water masses began to fly above the ground. She decided to keep low profile but then the water fell down on the red capes and washed them away. Ann saw her moment to come and ran trough the water toward the Namorians. She grabbed a sword from one of the soldiers and stabbed every enemy in her reach while rushing through the water.

***

Not long later she reached the foot of the hill where the Namorian cannons were and watched how they smashed the second Legion of the red capes while nagging a bar of chocolate. Ann sighed and waited for the commander of this Legion to return, his name was Marcius or something like that...
But the another army had not even been totally destroyed as the next ones arrived, accompanied with the sounds of horns and trombones. Ann cursed that the enemy was so big but decided to help the Namorians against this enemy as well.
Without being noticed or just ignored, Ann left the hill and moved into the direction of east where the enemy was coming. She was going to take them face-on with her god behind her.
After running for about 500 meters, Ann drew a large circle into the ground and filled it with other ornaments but herself stood right in the middle of it. After finishing it, she began to pray for Ra and hoped he would answer to such a low creature as a Earth-born as the original followers of Ra had been elves.
She went on with this for almost fifteen minutes before she had the first prayer ready and Ann was already starting with the next as she felt the warmth she had once felt on earth as she first became a priestess.
"Thank you O might God of the Sun and all Life, I will offer you my left eye as a sacrifice for your power to burn these enemies, creatures born through a godly power in your sacred fires" Ann chanted in an old Egyptian language. Then she took a small bronze dagger with beautiful ornaments of sun and earth on it and pierced it through her eye;
Ann gasped in pain as the blood poured out of her eye hole and began to fill the circles in the ground. The blood ran out of her eye for almost a minute before she felt heat and the veins began to burn together as the god had received a sacrifice big enough.
The circles, now filled with blood began to smoke, then burn and the flames slowly got bigger. After only few seconds they rose many meters into the sky and competed with the suns scorching beauty. Ann was in the middle of these flames but didn't feel any pain nor fear as this was the strength of the God her soul and body had been subjugated.
Both armies could see the flames and how they grew bigger and lighter. The heat began to burn the grass around it as the metal ores inside the rocks began to melt. As the flames began to tangle around Ann's body, she could feel the godly power she received and the warmth of Ra's touch...

***

Five more minutes went and the flames grew larger and bigger. You couldn't see what happened there nor it was impossible to say what had created these flames if not a god.
Then a scream, a scream that carried over miles. The scream brought a strange heat inside the hearts of everyone who heard it and it's beauty could not be explained. Then it was heard again and suddenly the flames shot into the skies and something dark appeared inside it. Then that something widened and the flames vanished, revealing the unbelievable beauty of the Godly beast of Ra;

The Phoenix (http://files-cdn.formspring.me/photos/20120708/n4ffa49677ab7f.jpg)!

It hit it's wings high above the plains next to River Minerva, facing the Legions of the Romans. It was shining like the sun itself. It screamed again, a long heart shaking scream that made it's burning feathers to blaze.
Then it moved. The Phoenix flew in an arc over the heads of the Romans and dove then right toward them as the troops began to flee in panic when facing this godly enemy. As the flaming bird hit the ground, the ground break, flames rose from the earth and molten rock flew trough the air as the armors of the legionnaires melted, flesh burned and bones turned into ashes.
Even if this heavenly, brutal but still somehow beautiful scene took only few seconds the Burning Bird managed to kill over half of the Roman troops while wounding and crippling even more.
As the bird returned to the sky it screamed one more time and then, in a flash of light it caught fire itself and fell from the sky right in the middle of the battlefield, between the two armies and burned there for a moment before vanishing, leaving only a pile of ash where it once had been...

***


"What are you?" Asked the soldier Numiera who was still crawling on the ground and trying to free herself from the bow that was stuck. As the man repeated the question, Numiera panicked again and tears began to flow out of her tears as she began to cry;
"Do...Don't...Don't hurt Numiera... Please... Nu...Numiera didn't do anything wrong...." She whined and tried to free herself even more desperate.


"Easy Salvius, if she had been here to hurt us, she would have attacked already." Kuronus said walking up to the girl, "What is your business here? and what exactly are you?" he dropped to a crouch to better look at her, "Well what ever you are, your not human... at least not fully." Quickly standing back up, Kuronus gestured towards his camp, "Come, the night grows long, and it seems there is much to be said, and I'd like to get at least some sleep before the sun rises again."

As the wolf-man said that, Numiera didn't calm down at all but feared it as a trap. Her mother had always said other people wouldn't be nice to him due of her looks as they would fear her even if she was nice and if someone said something nice to her, she should be suspicious.
Numiera managed to grab her dagger from under her body but when she tried to use it behind her back and cut the bow, she accidentally cut herself in finger and dropped the dagger. She tried to cover her head and waited for the soldier before her to kill her...

La Volpe
10-20-2012, 09:11 PM
Kuronus could almost smell the fear on the girl as he walked away. But some part of him was assured she would follow them to his camp. Stifling a slight yawn he slowed down his pace a bit to let the others catch up if the wanted to. Other wise he would go to sleep right as he got there. He only had 3 days until the cycle reached its peak... And he would run... and feast on what ever was unlucky enough to cross his path.

Death of Korzan
10-22-2012, 07:13 AM
Minerva
The sun rose gradually over the sky and as dawn came the fight began, Roman versus Namorian, a fight to the death, although as of now there was no death for the Roman men. Mars watched from his throne, as did all gods but Thanatos, there were even a few minor betting Gods placing money on which side they thought would win.

As the battle drew to a close, the Namorians with two of the Roman legions Eagles, and the other Legion coming up close, a huge man eating snake composed of many blood hungry Red soldiers. Another battle was inevitable and surely after the lack of sleep that the Kraken bought them last night, the soldiers would have difficulty through this next battle against 2 Legions of Roman men.

Luckily for them, a phoenix of Ra had seemingly manifested itself and finally the Namorians received some godly help to counteract the things that had gone wrong for them. The Roman legion was mostly burned to ashes, although their Eagle was taken by the surviving carrier of the item. As the smell of burned hair and ash filled the sky, the Namorians had defended their land successfully, but this would not be the first time they would have to...

The Mages Guild
The Assassin's hands traced the large magical wall that was set up before him, looking for a way in. There was always holes in magical defences, no matter how complicated or well made they were. Pressing against one point made his hand slide through like custard. Behind his mask The Assassin was grinning, he pulled the hand down, being met with resistance, but it caved under the pressure and he cleaved an entrance through the invisible barrier, stepping into the Mages guild's perimeter.

“Well what a mess we have here...”

Dun Moriga
“Hold the line!” A single dwarf shouted at the huge battalion of Dwarves that lined the path into the city. The path was basically a bridge that ran over a river of lava. As with everything built by Dwarves in stone, it was beautiful yet practically and there were few races that could replicate their techniques without being trained in a life time. “Keep hold!” A Dwarven soldier ran in fear only to be met with the steel shield of a Namorian soldier.

“Get back into place you dog!” The commander of the Legion yelled, his face directly in the terrified young Dwarven boys face. An animalistic scream came from the other side of gate. It sounded like a tormented pig, but the scouts had been true. The door shook, dust and rubble coming loose, it would only be a matter of time until this...barbaric monstrous enemy broke through the lines.

“Hold your positions men!” The siege engines prepared, but the enemy had siege engines of their own...living siege engines. “We are men of the Emperor; you will hold your line men!” The Namorians got into position, a practical and effective Namorian battle position that was used against enemies of more power.

A piece of wood flew off of the door and hit the Dwarven line. The Dwarf it hit died on impact but the line grew around the fallen Dwarf. A pair of startling yellow eyes adopted the whole and the animalistic roaring grew louder and more violent. The creature began pounding on the door wildly, skittering of other beasts, spiders, could be heard. “This is it men!” The Dwarven Commander yelled. “It's now or never!” The door broke, the beasts flooded in, and all hell broke loose.

Azazeal849
10-22-2012, 07:03 PM
“Who's that?” one of Marcius' tribunes said suddenly, as a figure appeared in the river flood plain, walking towards the paved road and the approaching red-crest legions. Marcius frowned and motioned to one of his attendents for his telescope – a valuable device whose design the Namorians had copied from the dwarves of Dun Moriga.

“It's that Earthborn girl again.” he said in disbelief as he looked through the bronze tube.

The circles, now filled with blood began to smoke, then burn and the flames slowly got bigger. After only few seconds they rose many meters into the sky and competed with the suns scorching beauty. Ann was in the middle of these flames but didn't feel any pain nor fear as this was the strength of the God her soul and body had been subjugated.

“What the hell is she...” Marcius began, but was struck silent by what happened next.

As the bird returned to the sky it screamed one more time and then, in a flash of light it caught fire itself and fell from the sky right in the middle of the battlefield, between the two armies and burned there for a moment before vanishing, leaving only a pile of ash where it once had been.

“Holy shit.” said Varinius as the flames cleared and the devastation was revealed. His reaction was mirrored by the hundreds of Fulminata legionaries below him, who were on their feet and gaping in awe.

“Attack!” Marcius said almost immediately. “Attack now! Full assault!”

The legion commanders ran to mount their horses.


* * * * * *

As Marcius rode behind his unit he passed by the huge pile of ash. The legatus reined in his horse as he noticed something in it, and called a few men to help him with the investigation. The ash was still very hot and it was only slowly that they managed to dig out what was sticking out of the pile. They were amazed to find out what it was.

An egg, a huge egg that shone in the colours of the rainbow. It was hot and gave out a quiet chiming noise whenever someone got closer. Then someone was brave enough to touch the egg and suddenly it burst open and Ann, pale and naked, appeared out of it. There was also something different about her which everybody didn't directly notice; there were feathers along her arms, all the way from her hands to her elbows, as well as around her empty eye hole where there were some long feathers too. She fell on the ground exhausted where the soldiers caught her and covered her with a cape. Marcius called for one of the men riding behind him to fetch a medicus.

“I'm still not sure what you just did.” he said to the exhausted priestess laying on the ground. “But thank you.” He kicked his heels into his horse's flanks and galloped on in the wake of the Namorian pursuit.

It was less a battle than the mopping up of scattered, broken men. The victory was quick and decisive, far more decisive than Marcius could have hoped for. After an hour the legatus called his soldiers to a halt, their gladii stained red to the hilts. By sunset the men were pitching camp on the top of the hill overlooking the ford, and while some fortified the camp others went about the dirty business of rounding up the Roman survivors, digging a mass grave on the southern bank, and counting the dead – a task that was doomed to be left unfinished before night fell.

Marcius was in the camp field hospital with his plumed helmet under his arm, passing through the mercifully small number of Namorian wounded. His target was a young tribune who lay separated from the ordinary soldiers with his arm in a sling. The tribune managed a wrong-handed salute with his good arm as he approached.

“What happened?” Cassius asked, “I didn't see any of it after Septim knocked me off my horse, but all I've been hearing about is the Earthborn girl and her invocation of Ra.”

“She wiped them out.” Marcius said levelly. Battle mages were powerful, and Legate Septim had set a new bar for Marcius that very morning, but summoning the gods themselves was something completely different. When the gods intervened directly no army, no matter how well drilled, could stand up to their fury, and it was rare indeed for them to take to the field at the beseeching of a mere mortal.

Marcius knew that the Earthborn had his Imperium outmatched in technology, and here was one of them who was also chosen of the gods. His distrust in the Imperium's current allies was growing, as was his worry about the future. The raising of the Earthborn dead, and now two direct interventions by the gods, pointed to a turning point in the world's history - a coming together of fates whose conclusion he couldn't begin to foresee. The damned sword Hate, despite being a gift from Mars, wasn't helping with its constant attempts to manipulate him.

Cassius winced as he pulled himself more upright, leaning the elbow of his uninjured arm on the blanket that covered the grass under him. “Were there any survivors at all?”

“A few. After our men ran down the rest of the red-crests we rounded up maybe five hundred prisoners, the highest ranked of which turned out to be a laticlavius. We haven't found Septim himself yet.”

“Bastard.” Cassius said through his teeth. “What are you going to do with them?”

Marcius had asked himself the same question. He was a ruthless pragmatist, and he had given serious thought to simply having the prisoners killed and moving on – the Fulminata were needed in Hercine as soon as possible, and a train of prisoners would only slow them down. Not to mention that he couldn't spare the men to guard them during a battle. And he had no compassion for these Romans - his respect for their discipline and skill in no way outweighed his hatred of them for daring to threaten the Imperium.

“It was like fighting a mirror.” Cassius said quietly when Marcius didn't answer. “I...I couldn't help feeling like we were fighting against fellow Namorians.”

“They aren't Namorians, and they aren't our equals.” Marcius growled inflexibly. “They refused to reason and sought our destruction out of spite – that alone puts them below us.”

“They claimed to rule all of ancient Earth.” Cassius murmured. “But they fell. Could our empire fall one day, just as theirs did?”

“We won't have an answer to that question until the end of this war.” replied Marcius grimly. “But Mars is on our side. We have to trust him, if no-one else.”

Though he would not admit it aloud, Marcius didn't dismiss his tribune's concerns as quickly as he professed to. He remembered his first thought upon hearing his scouts describe the Roman army; that they were Namorian traitors who had somehow turned against the Emperor. Before Marcius had been born, but not so long ago as to make it forgotten history, there had been a succession crisis when the ruling Emperor had died childless. There had been war among the imperial family's closest bloodline, until the Empress Octavia Hipacretis Claudius – the grandmother of the current emperor - had emerged triumphant. The instability in the Imperium had led to another 20 years of war to bring to heel its rebellious provinces, some of whom had seen the civil war as an opportunity to throw off the shackles of Namorian rule.

Thankfully, the Imperium was now united and stronger than ever under Galen Claudius, but even if it weathered the current storm it would still be in danger. If the Namorian-Earthborn alliance defeated the South, and if the Stones of Alcamor proved enough to turn back the undead, then what? With all external threats removed, who would the Namorians ultimately have to turn on but each other?

Oh, we'll have an external threat. Marcius reminded himself sullenly. The Earthborn. They're far too powerful for this alliance to last as an equal arrangement.

He turned to look at a bed on the other side of the field hospital, where Ann lay with a cloth bandage around her missing eye. Regardless of what the future held for Namor and the Sky Men, the fact remained that this Earthborn priestess had just given his legion a crushing victory with minimal casualties.

“Get some rest, Cassius.” Marcius said to his tribune. He crossed over to Ann, threading his way through the grim surgeons and their charges, who groaned or hissed in pain as wounds were stitched and bones reset.

“I knew you said you were a priestess of Ra.” Marcius said to Ann as he stopped at the foot of her bed, kneeling to bring himself down to the Earthborn woman's level. “But that was something else. Will you be accompanying us into Hercine?”


* * * * * *

“Come, the night grows long, and it seems there is much to be said, and I'd like to get at least some sleep before the sun rises again.”

Salvius frowned down at the creature that had self-identified as 'Numiera'. On his travels with the 18th Legion he had thought he had met, or at least seen, most of the natural sapient species of Eternum. Apparently not. It made him suspicious – anything that wasn't natural could only stem from the gods...or from demons. But, ultimately, he knew he could trust Koronus' instincts.

Numiera managed to grab her dagger from under her body but when she tried to use it behind her back and cut the bow, she accidentally cut herself in the finger and dropped the dagger. She tried to cover her head and waited for the soldier before her to kill her.

“Oh for the gods' sake.” Salvius muttered, and then knelt and used his gladius to cut through the root that had trapped the girl's bow and pinned her to the ground. He closed his free hand around her thin arm and helped her to her feet.

“Come along then.” he said to her. “If only so I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don't run off to tell the nearest pack of bandits that we're here.”

There was a forest stream winding past Koronus' camp, and Salvius tied his horse up next to it after pulling a handful of unripe apples from the nearest tree for her to eat. He tossed three others to Koronus, Gabriel and Numiera as they settled in at the camp. The camp itself was a modest affair, consisting of a small tent and a circle of stones with firewood piled ready. Salvius remained standing on watch while the others set it burning. His bodyguard's instincts kept him constantly searching for danger, and it was a hard habit to break.

“Word's out that the barbarian king's dead.” Salvius explained to Koronus when he asked him about his mission. 'The barbarian king' was the derogatory name for Korzan among the Namorian military. “Which would be good news for the invasion if we hadn't also heard about another army that's appeared out of nowhere on our own border.”

“Where did they come from?”

“No idea.” Salvius said, surreptitiously touching his sword's iron hilt to avert evil. “But the Emperor reckons our best hope is to reclaim the Stones of Alcamor, and that means petitioning Ra to take us through Tartarus.”

“It's a big fucking gamble, I'll give you that.” Salvius admitted when the revelation met with silence. “But that's the order. There's supposed to be a bunch of other Namorians meeting me at the other end of Combrogia, but I figured for a mission to Tartarus I should call in any extra help I can. I thought you might just be crazy enough to be tempted.”

He took a draught from his water skin and passed it down to Koronus, before looking curiously at Gabriel. He had assumed the man to be some sort of retainer or hunting partner, but was confused by the mask he wore, and the fact that he made no effort to take it off as they sat down to rest and eat.

“What's your story?” he asked the silent man, before turning towards Numiera with an unreadable expression. “And you...I think we all want to know who you are.”


* * * * * *

“How strong is the rest of your army?” Marcius barked at Septim's tribunus laticlavius, who had been stripped of his weapons and armour and stood before him in just his tunic and trousers, his hands tied behind his back.

“I told you.” the Roman commander spat, “We aren't responsible for the attacks on your client provinces. We will see your false empire torn down; we have no interest in your vassals.”

At this continued defiance, the legionary standing behind him slammed the bottom edge of his iron-rimmed shield into the back of the prisoner's neck, driving him to his knees.

“You expect me to believe,” Marcius growled, “That you planned to break the Imperium with just four legions?”

“Four legions are all we need.”

“I just destroyed your four legions with one of mine, and the Emperor has twenty three more to call upon. Either I've vastly overestimated your intelligence, or you're lying to me.”

The Roman prisoner managed to laugh. “You think you've destroyed us?”

Marcius exhaled through his nose, before speaking in a voice as cold and hard as a steel blade. “I've slaughtered fifteen thousand of your men in one day. My cavalry has overrun your supply camp and burned it. Your leader is either dead, or running away to die in some Crocolyke-infested shithole south of Combrogia. You're all that's left, and you're a hindrance to my army's march. The only reason I haven't executed you as well is so I can send tangible proof of our victory back to Emor. A detachment of my men are going to march you to the city, parade you through the streets, and leave your fate in the hands of the Emperor. Your weapons, armour and legion standards will be laid as trophies at the Emperor's feet, so everyone can see what happens to barbarians who threaten the Imperium. Yes, I think I've destroyed you.”

The Roman laughed again, and kept laughing even as the legionary behind him bludgeoned him into the ground. “Roma invicta!” he gasped through bloodstained teeth.


* * * * * *

The next morning, the 18th legion finished burying their dead. Legionaries from the same unit often banded together to form burial clubs, sharing the funeral expenses when one of them was killed in action. In the field they had little time for a proper ceremony, but the soldiers cut trees from the edge of the Combrogian forest and erected simple monuments over their comrades' graves, meticulously inscribed with their names, units, and the fact that they had died valiantly in the Emperor's service.

The Roman dead, who vastly outnumbered their Namorian counterparts, were stripped of their weapons, armour and anything valuable, and buried in a mass grave south of the river. A single wooden tablet describing the cost of defying the Imperium was erected over the newly-turned earth.

“First cohort second and fifth centuries have been amalgamated.” the camp commandant listed off to Marcius as the Fulminata went through the final stages of breaking camp. “The survivors of third cohort second century have been added to first. All other understrength units are battle-worthy. Tenth cohort third and fourth centuries are already on their way back to Emor with the prisoners and plunder.”

“Very good praefectus.” Marcius acknowledged.

The last men of the legion formed up for the march. Supply wagons were hitched up, pack animals were saddled, and the dwarven artillery were limbered up with a team of six horses to each cannon, ready to move. The Fulminata were mobilised and ready to move on to the next battle.

“Forward to Hercine then.” Varinius said from beside Marcius. “Hopefully the cat-men haven't given up and run for the hills in the time it's taken us to kill these bastards.”

“I imagine the Hercina and Rapax legions will be at least still fighting.” Marcius answered, with carefully affected nonchalance. “Anyway, after yesterday I'm rather confident in our ability to kick the arse of any invader living or dead. And I'll enjoy the chance to stock up on a few bottles of the local wine. The softer Hercinian grapes give a more subtle but still wonderfully rounded flavour. Praefectus, if you'd do the honours?”

“Legatus.” nodded the camp prefect, who knew little about wine but plenty about commanding a legion. He raised his voice to a parade-ground bellow and roared, “Fulminata, are you ready?”

“Aye!” came the defiant shout from the assembled legionaries.

“Move out!”

And the legion marched. They crossed the ford, and then turning west. If the Roman prisoner had spoken the truth, then they marched to face another unknown enemy. But they had already faced one, and they had triumphed. And now, with renewed confidence, they marched west.

To liberate Hercine.

La Volpe
10-24-2012, 03:04 PM
Taking a drink from the water skin, Kuronus looked at Salvius with no expression. "Your asking me to travel through Tartarus with you? That would be quite the journey... how long do I have to think it over?" He asked handing back the water skin. He had promised Gabriel he would help him find his lost sword... but maybe Gabriel could come with them, and if they survived, they could hunt for his sword. Turning his gaze over to Numeria "He's right... Who are you? and why were you spying on us?" he asked with a slight yawn.

The Bartender
10-25-2012, 12:40 PM
River Minerva:

It was dark, Ann saw only darkness and nothing else but still it was warm, a soothing warmth surrounded her and it felt like if she was a unborn child. Then suddenly the darkness wanished and so did the warmth and freezing coldness appeared that made Ann shiver and fell to ground.
Ann's body was trembling but then someone put a cape over her body and she looked up to see some Namorians and the Legat Marcius. After that, she fell unconsciousness on the ground after the man thanked her.

****

As Ann woke up later, she was in a field hospital and when she looked around a bit she identified it to belong the Namorians. She also rememberd what had happened and touched her left eye which wasn't there but only a shallow mould surrounded by...feathers?
Ah... It's Ra's will to reform those who use his powers, isn't it? Or at least that was told me before coming here... Ann thought and sank her head only to see her arms covered with feathers too. So it has so much effect to use such a strong energy... I must be careful next time or I end up like the last priestess...
As she raised her head, Marcius was coming toward her, propably asking her how she had managed to summon a god on the battlefield but it was actually a simple question;

“I knew you said you were a priestess of Ra.” Marcius said to Ann as he stopped at the foot of her bed, kneeling to bring himself down to the Earthborn woman's level. “But that was something else. Will you be accompanying us into Hercine?”

As if I had another chance? My unit is gone, Talos is useless and there is no way to contact the HQ. And how could I explain this...? Ann thought and slightly moved her hand over her eye, brushing the long, rainbow coloured feathers.
"I come with you, I must meet Ra personally to get away from this damned planet so I will come along," She said but then raised a finger, "But you must know that I won't fight if I don't want, and far less I shall use my powers as a priestess for small affairs. Got it?" She said with the toughest voice she could do with her exhausted body.

****

Next morning Ann was sitting in one of the supply wagons. She had made a grude clothing from the tunic she had and few capes of the romans and she was now wearing a short dress with long, wide sleeves which covered her arms. Her katana was laying next to her and she was still half asleep. She was the only person in the wagon due of the fact she was a woman.
Ann had her eyes closed and tried to focus on the small piece of warmth inside her and enlight it but it was extremely exhausting and she fell asleep soon.

---

Combrogian Forest


“And you...I think we all want to know who you are.”
"He's right... Who are you? and why were you spying on us?"

Numiera who was sitting on a tree branch furtest away from the light of the bonfire sobbed;
"Nu...Numiera...isn't spying... Numiera was hunting..." She managed to force herself to talk before blushing and covering her face with the hood again. She was scared of the three men, she was so scared that she couldn't even move right and so she was just shivering like a leaf on the branch she sat on...

Epostle
10-25-2012, 07:36 PM
Gabriel was sitting near the campfire, in an indian style sitting position. He had his arms tucked into the sleeves and crossed. In his mind, Gabriel was thinking on how could he have to been so careless. Destruction was right in front of him, ready for his defeat. Gabriel wasn’t going to give that same chance again. The next time he comes to fight Destruction, there will be no escape, and no holding back. Another thing that worried Gabriel was the whereabouts of his sword, Hate. Knowing what the sword was capable of, Gabriel could only wonder what hands it could fall into. Good or bad, the sword grew upon its owner, often coming to the point of fusion in a sense.

“What's your story?” One of the men said to Gabriel. Gabriel then turned to the man, after he had been questioned. Gabriel stood quietly for a while before answering “My story… if it’s a story you want, then I am sorry, but… “he said as he paused and looked towards the ground, in deep thought “ The Earthborn look upon me as… a threat that hasn’t existed for a long time on Earth. In fact… they think I’m dead. Especially after what all occurred. I do not pose a threat to you that sit before me.” Gabriel then slowly swept his head, looking towards all of the people near him. He then leaned his head back and looked towards the sky. "You will know more about me after a while."

Setsa
10-27-2012, 10:03 PM
In the low branches of the forest a desert eagle screeches within the lights of the camp, ruffling it's feathers that have flown so many days carrying on it's leg a message that has the Royal Seal of Afragian.

To the ones known as Marius and Salvius....

I am in need of the both of you as I ask now for your help. We have been attacked by strong forces as of late and where this is nothing we usually can't handle. Their methods and ways are something new all together in which poses a great threat to my Afragian people. The dwarves are wary at the moment, still and always allies they must protect their kind just as well. Anubis is with those I have no name for and what's more, they're killing those they see fit and as hard as my soldiers fight and the many hours in the battle room as I spend. This is above us... The two of you have the Imperium's ear and respect, I ask now that you help me make this become an urgent important matter to the Emperor we all serve.

By the pressing pleads of the elected Senate, I shall be on the move with a very few, most trusted royal guards through the dwarve's land and into the forests that you both claim as your homeland toward's the Emperor as fast as our horses can take us. To plead my case as well as for my protection so that I can still rule my people with strength. The path I speak of you both know well. I pray that soon I recieve a hawk from least one of you with a place we can meet. You both have my undying grattitude as I look at the rising sun with hope each day.

-Princess Nesara


The one who wrote the letter was on the border of the dwarven lands traveling over hills which was the safest route, the allies had agreed to protect them this far as their many centuries of friendship was unbreakable. Nesara if front of the fire with the 4 royal guards that agreed to remain with the woman that they gave their loyalty too the day of crowning ceremony. A red blanket over her shoulders to help ease her body from the strain of many days ride helped to clear her mind as she drank a strong herbal tea like the rest of them, tucking her long raven black hair behind her ear only wearing an intricate gold band across her forehead which told of her title. Having already finished her curry grained rabbit stew it was basic and far from what she was use to in the palace. But she loved it more than anything....simple and filling. Perfect for a troubled mind over the safety and fate of her people who she was forced to leave... Praying the men of the Senate would protect them long enough for her to return with help...hoping the two men she has known and trusted would know her delima soon...

"More tea my lady-ship?" The voice brought her out of the deep thoughts inside as she sat up a little more straight, the red lushious lips forming a soft smile as she took the tea kettle and poured them all another cup till the last drop was gone. "Yes..thank you... We should all enjoy this night before we ride at the glowing dawn's light... For it has been days long over due..."

The men slowly gave their own nods of aggreement as the hunny-sweet voice of the woman seemed to be all they needed to take them away of their sore legs and aching backs.

Azazeal849
10-29-2012, 03:48 PM
"Nu...Numiera...isn't spying...Numiera was hunting..."

"Oh hell." said Salvius. "I guess we'll have to take you along, at least until the edge of the forest. So I can be sure you're not going to tell on us. After that you can go back to your mummy."

The centurion chewed the inside of his cheek as he finished speaking. The demon...crossbreed...whatever she was...was barely more than a child, and Salvius didn't particularly get on with children. He remembered talking about it to some friends down the tavern when he had mentioned that the only thing that worried him about being Legatus Marcius' bodyguard during peacetime was his damned kids. Quintus had pointed out that Salvius had been a kid once himself too; Salvius' response had been that just because he had once had flu, it did not obligate him to like disease.

"My story..." said the masked man when no further response was forthcoming from the shivering Numiera, "If it's a story you want, then I am sorry, but...the Earthborn look upon me as...a threat that hasn't existed for a long time on Earth. In fact...they think I'm dead. Especially after what all occured. I do not pose a threat to you that sit before me. You will know more about me after a while."

Salvius frowned slightly. For a moment, he wondered if he was talking to one of the demi-gods - though rare, they were not unknown across Eternum. He dismissed the thought almost as quickly, not just because it was unlikely, but because it was unsettling. Might the gods be taking a personal interest in his mission? If they were, he hoped to heaven that it was Mars' doing and not one of their rival gods.

"Another Earthborn, eh?" he said instead, "How'd you end up with a Sky Man, Koronus?"

When the hunter told him, Salvius raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Well if your sword's gone missing it might just be in Tartarus that you'll find it. Demons seem to like pinching magic artefacts off us mortals. It's why the bloody Stones I've been sent to find are down there in the first place. Anyway, we'd better get our heads down for the night. If you're coming with me, I need to move out at dawn."

Koronus' tent wasn't big enough for all of them, but Salvius was happy to sleep outside, wrapped in his cloak with his head resting on his curved shield. He didn't close his eyes until he was absolutely sure that the girl Numiera had gone to sleep.


* * * * * *

The deep black sky was only just beginning to lighten with a slash of paler grey across the eastern horizon, when the newly-turned earth on the Minerva's southern flood plain began to shift. Nocturnal animals skittered away into the cover of the trees as a hand burst forth from the earth, clawing its way blindly out of the soil. Another followed, and another, as one by one a host of men hauled themselves out of their shallow grave. First there were dozens. Then hundreds. Then thousands.

The men were dirty, their faces and their red cloaks stained with mud, and they were alive. Unarmed, unarmoured, but alive. Tunics were torn and bloodstained from the killing strokes of Namorian gladii, but the skin underneath was unmarked. One by one the resurrected Romans stood up, rising from their knees to unhunch shoulders and stand straight. After a few moments of confusion officers began to issue rallying calls, and fifteen thousand Romans began to file back into their ranks. A figure watching from the shadows of the trees urged his horse forward, and the men close enough to recognise Legate Septim snapped salutes as he passed. Septim rode through the ranks until he found his prime centurion.

"Something of a setback, sir." the officer said darkly.

"It does seem that the Pretenders have at least some of the gods on their side." Septim admitted, "But not the ones that matter."

"Still," said the centurion, "The bastards took most of our armour and swords. What are we supposed to do, tell the men to use their cocks as weapons?"

The legate chuckled softly. "No. We find a town, with food, water, and an armoury."

Remobilising the Roman legions would take time, but patience was one virtue that Septim had in abundance.

"And the two lost eagles, sir?" the centurion said hesitantly, broaching the most sensitive subject last.

For the first time, a flash of anger glinted across the legate's eyes.

"They're being taken to the Pretenders' capital." he said stonily, "We follow them, reclaim them, and avenge the stain on their legions' honour by burning that city to the fucking ground."

As if startled by the legate's violent words, a murder of crows took flight from a nearby tree and disappeared into the sky, cawing harshly.


* * * * * *

Salvius had a gods-given ability to survive and function on very little sleep, and when the others awoke they found him kneeling down by the river, cleaning his teeth with a mixture of salt and crushed mint leaves. When he registered the others he spat into the river, cupped water into his mouth, and spat again.

"So," he said, as he refilled and stoppered his water skin before hanging it on his mare with the rest of his already-packed equipment. "Shall we?"


* * * * * *

You both have my undying gratitude as I look at the rising sun with hope each day.

Princess Nesara

Marcius frowned as he finished reading the message. He was riding alongside his tribunes at the head of the Fulminata column, while the priestess Ann was presumably somewhere behind them. One of his men held the messenger eagle with his blue cloak wrapped around his hand to protect it, while the bird itself perched patiently on his forearm.

"I'd still love to know how they train them to seek out individuals like that." Varinius said, squinting suspiciously at the eagle.

"Blessing of the gods, or so I'm told." Marcius replied as he fished a stick of charcoal out of his saddlebag and began to write a reply on the reverse side of the parchment. The messenger birds of the Afragian court were singularly useful creatures, as they could carry a message far faster than any horse courier - not to mention being much harder to intercept. Very few others besides the chancellors of the Mages' Guild held a similar advantage.

"If this was sent from somewhere near Dun Moriga," the legatus mused aloud as he wrote, keeping a steady hand despite the motion of his horse, "Then that must have been about three days ago. Salvius can't be out of Combrogia yet, so they'll probably meet somewhere east of the mountains."

He finished the letter with a scribbled signature, and read it over before handing it back to the legionary to fold back into the tube attached to the eagle's leg. He wanted to sound as respectful as possible; even though the Afragian royals were only a client government, they were a comparitively loyal one.


Friday May 8th
Minerva Estuary, Combrogia

Your highness,

My legion and I are marching on Hercine, and even if we gain a swift victory over the invaders we will not be able to reach Dun Moriga and Afragia until late next month. However, my bodyguard Salvius is leading an expedition west to Tartarus, and if he is successful it may change the course of this war. He will be riding along your road in the opposite direction, and will likely meet you within a few days of this message arriving. I suggest you meet with him.

Your servant,
Decius Marcius
18th Legion

"So what's the news?" Cassius asked as the handler loosed the eagle and it immediately flew away east. The tribune had insisted on getting back in the saddle as soon as the legion marched, though his right arm was still bound up in its sling.

"The princess, no less," Marcius answered, "Is on her way to Emor to ask the Emperor for help. If the Ferrata and Moriga legions aren't enough to keep the peace over there then we're in trouble. We might have to march right across the continent to help them as soon as we've stabilised Hercine - unless the Emperor is willing to peel a legion off the Namor garrison, which I doubt."

"If she catches Maximus and the rest of the invasion force in Combrogia she might be able to convince them to detach a legion or two." said Cassius, though he sounded doubtful. "But as you say we'll need to head east to Dun Moriga anyway - some of the dwarven auxillaries are already getting worried that we're marching for Hercine first and not their homeland."

Marcius frowned thoughtfully. It was all a question of strategic priorities: Hercine was the economic hub of the Imperium, but Dun Moriga made no small contribution in industry and taxes as well. Hercine, however, was closer to Namor and thus could be reached more quickly. Unfortunately, their westward march took them further away from their following objective.

"She'd do more good sending the message and staying with her own people." Varinius said, as bluntly as ever. "The plebs probably think she's just running and leaving them to it. I told you women should never be allowed near politics."

Marcius ignored the veteran soldier's customary acerbicism and cast his gaze west, looking for any sign of the scouts who were ranging ahead of the legion in search of signs of the next enemy.

La Volpe
10-30-2012, 11:43 PM
Kuronus smiled at Salvius, the mans ability to function with such little rest still amazed him. He slowly stretched out cracking all of his joints as he did. "Soon my friend, first I need to pack this stuff up... It shouldn't take too long." He said shaking his hair loose. He looked around the camp, slowly taking in everything, making sure that there were no tracks or any signs that there were others here. As he scanned he saw a large eagle sitting in the tree looking at Salvius. "Salvius, do you have a pet bird? or are they just fond of your company?" Kuronus jested, letting a small chuckle slip out.

Setsa
10-31-2012, 02:44 PM
My legion and I are marching on Hercine, and even if we gain a swift victory over the invaders we will not be able to reach Dun Moriga and Afragia until late next month. However, my bodyguard Salvius is leading an expedition west to Tartarus, and if he is successful it may change the course of this war. He will be riding along your road in the opposite direction, and will likely meet you within a few days of this message arriving. I suggest you meet with him.

Your servant,
Decius Marcius
18th Legion

Nesara was reading the letter days after it had been sent on horseback. The temperature had been pleasureable which made their journey somewhat pleasant even though everyone was as vigilant as ever. Trying to make as little noise as possible, as they have found out other things were lurking in the woods beside the expected creatures. This world has taken a turn for the worse recently... Everytime they made camp to rest it would only last long enough for them to be somewhat energized though the woman looked as if she had not been troubled or plaugued by little rest. Certain strange noises would be heard every night for the past week that woke them all up and forced them to leave in haste to keep ahead of the whatever that they couldn't see behind them at night nor well in the sun's light.

Cresting over a mountain at midday; Nesara was wearing a light blue cloak that dispite the thin material. Kept the user very warm in most conditions. The hood pulled over her face she had turned to look back on the road for any signs of followers when she felt her stallion stop.

"Princess...look ahead of us." Kinyou, head of the 4 royal guards said pointing down into the valley below them. "Looks like Marcius was right..."

Looking down the road she could see riders and those on foot approaching at a steady pace. Movement in the forest amongst them told her that this was indeed who they were waiting for.

"Well let us not just wait here..we've gone too far just like them to be rude." Heels pressing lightly into the stallion's side advanced their movements towards the others. Where she wasn't sure about going into Tartarus, this amongst other things would have to be discussed before any decisions would need to be made. The guards making sure to stay close and surround the cloaked figure in the center of the diamond formation. Even if they were allies...the forest can play many tricks and Kinyou was going to make sure this wasn't some trick.

As the group reached the treeline that marked the southeastern limit of the Combrogian forests, Salvius reined in his horse and shaded his eyes against the rising sun. Gods, it was good to have the full sun on his face after three days of being shaded by the thick trees. Not to mention be clear of the enemy army that Salvius was now sure was stalking the forest. Several times they had*had to stop and take cover when they heard scouting parties crunching through the trees, always heard but never seen through the undergrowth. They had been talking loudly, in a strange language that sounded like a corrupted form of Combrogi. Their lack of stealth suggested that they already considered the forest to be theirs, which didn't bode well for Governor Boar Skull and his forest tribes. Salvius hoped fervently that soon they would stumble into the Namorian invasion force as the latter marched south, and receive a kicking good enough to scatter them back to whatever hell-hole had spawned them.

"Alright." he said to Numiera. During the journey they had all talked little, not wanting to attract the attention of the unknown enemy, but even so the crossbreed girl had stood out as the quietest. "I suppose we can let you go now - we'll be gone long before any..."

He stopped in mid-sentence as his eyes adjusted to the light and he registered the five horsemen trotting along the road in the opposite direction, having just crested the nearest hill. He frowned.

"Company." he grunted, his hand drifting towards the round pommel of his gladius, but he took it away again as he studied the newcomers more closely. Their armour was Afragian - someone had travelled a long way.

"Friendlies." he added, and pointed out the way the four outer riders were clustered protectively around the central figure. "That's an escort formation. Must be a diplomat or something."

Still, the old soldier's instinct nagged at the back of the centurion's mind and he kicked his mare into a trot, her hooves clapping against the paved highway as he pulled his travelling cloak off his shoulders to reveal his striking scale armour. He also donned his helmet with its Namorian-blue crest to leave the Afragians in no doubt about his allegiance as he rode up to them.

"Ave Imperator." he greeted the lead horseman, bringing his right fist to his left shouilder and then extending the arm in salute. "You're a long way from home, gentlemen - and those woods ahead aren't safe. Where are you headed?"

Kinyou presented the same greeting to the blue crested man before relaxing more into the saddle. Reaching back he took hold of the parchment the Marcius returned to them, handing it over to Salvius which would explain a lot before reining his horse alongside of his.

"We Salvius..." A very sweet sounding voice said from under the hood before Nesara reached up to completely remove the material to reveal her soft smiling lips and brilliant eyes. "Are on our way to seek help from the Emperor, however Marcius believes our rendezvous here will produce some aid and more perhaps into Tartarus."

Lowering her head slightly in a friendly nod, she added, "It has been too long since last you or Marcius has visited my kingdom."

Salvius was visibly taken aback. He had only met the princess once before - at her coronation 4 years ago. The Fulminata legion had been stationed in Afragia at the time and Marcius had been one of the dignitaries tasked by the Emperor with attending the ceremony. It had been a clever manoeuvre by Emperor Galen - Namorian commanders showing support and unity for the new ruler, while subtly reminding her who was really in charge. Salvius had been less interested in the politics involved than in keeping an eye out for potential assassins (and in the feast their hosts had provided), but he definitely remembered princess Nesara. Some Afragians, those from the deeper desert, had ebony-dark skin, while others had a sandy, almost Namorian complexion. Nesara was of the latter type, with the trademark Afragian height and sharp features, softened by big liquid eyes. Salvius remembered thinking that 23 was far too young to be shouldering the responsibility of an entire province, but the calm young royal had looked every inch capable of doing so. It wasn't surprising that he remembered such a woman; what was surprising was that she remembered him.

"Commanding a legion keeps the legatus busy, domina." he said, falling back on the regimentally polite manner he used around people who outranked him. He turned the paper Kinyou had given him over in his hands and read his commander's slightly scuffed charcoal message. "Especially now. Every province seems to be under attack, but the Emperor's insisting that the southern expedition goes ahead. I'm heading to Tartarus because he's tasked me with finding the Alcamor Stones. He thinks we can use them to turn back the invaders."

He paused to hand the paper back to Kinyou, as behind him Koronus and the others approached.
*
Alcamor Stones....**Nesara remember hearing the tales about then that were closer to factually based than anything else. "Yes....yes the stones just may be able to help all of us. But the journey alone, and time itself to even get there..."

"You're right, my lady." Salvius nodded, with a grim cast descending on his blocky face. "Marcius and the Fulminata legion are trying to stabilise the borders to buy us time, but we still don't even know what's going on in the provinces. What's been happening in Afragia and Dun Moriga?"

The princess was brought out of her deep thought when she heard him ask about the current events.

"In Afragia it started to occur enough to demand our full attention nearly a season ago. Deaths that were brought on in such a brutal way, with some only looking as if fear was their deathmaker. Even after we heavily increased watchers and dispursed soldiers around the kingdom to better secure the well being of my people. It only seemed to slow them down for a short period of time before the deaths increased in count once more.

The only way I had known Anubis was amongst them was from the reports comming back as of last month. Soldiers who were fighting the unknown enemy and lived to speak directly to me. It certainly does seen his way from what I know at least. Prayers to Ra something can be done about it soon."

A month. Salvius thought. Allowing for the*time it would have taken the news to reach the Emperor in Namor, that might well have been around the time that the barbarian king Korzan was killed. Perhaps there was a bigger connection between the rebel king's death and current events than they had thought.

Shaking her head softly, Nesara's eyes were the only hint that such was troubling the young ruler. "As for Dun Moriga... Only know that it is far worse underground from what I have been told by the dwarven council. Hence why we made such haste through the hills as I seek the Emperor's help. But I fear that something has been following us for days now that Kinyou nor any of us have been able to identify..."

Kinyou gave a nod to the lady's words as he looked behind her and the other Afrigians just in case. "Perhaps we can for lunch and further discuss both of our reasons for being here... My men are tired as I am sure yours are as well, but we will gladly join in and help out where needed as we're all people of the Emperor."


{An Azazeal849 and Setsa Co-op }

Epostle
10-31-2012, 04:22 PM
“Hmmm, no, the spy can stay with us. It would be safer for her that way, unless you have a problem with is Salvius. “ Gabriel gestured while still sitting. Seeing the 2 talk to each other seemed a little bit awkward to Gabriel. Had the whole planet come under siege by the godly and demonic forces? If so, then Gabriel knew all too well what could come of this. Gabriel then stood up and rolled his shoulders, trying to stretch them out sense they were a little bit tight. He also heard the mentioning of Anubis. This caught Gabriel’s interest.

“So woman… you’re having trouble with… Anubis?” He said as he began walking to the woman, yet making sure not to get too close. “If Anubis is part of the attack, you might as well call it quits and retreat your armies. I don’t mean to come off as insulting, but it seems as though that your men cannot handle him. And the more he kills, the weaker you become. That is the way of Anubis.” He said in a serious yet quite tone.

“And for this… thing… following you, is there anyway you can describe it for me?” He then walked up to one of the guardsmen and touched his weaponry, analyzing it and showing no fear.

Azazeal849
11-01-2012, 01:29 PM
Behind his mask the assassin was grinning; he pulled the hand down, being met with resistance, but it caved under the pressure and he cleaved an entrance through the invisible barrier, stepping into the Mages' Guild's perimeter.

As soon as the masked assassin broke through, disappearing through a seemingly solid stretch of wall, Ovidius leapt from his hiding place and followed him. Probing the wall with his hands, he found a spot where rough granite seemed to dissolve under his fingers, even though it still looked completely solid. His hand simply passed through the solid stone. The spy paused nervously - even though he had just seen the masked assassin pass through this very portal, he was still wary of stepping into the unknown substance lest it turn back to solid rock once he was through - or even worse, while he was still inside. But if he didn't follow quickly, he would lose his quarry.

Finding the edges of the invisible portal with his fingertips, Ovidius took a deep breath and squeezed through. For a moment he felt a strange sensation, as if he had just immersed himself in a dense liquid that slowed his movements, but just as quickly the sensation passed and he found himself standing on the inside of the high wall, looking up at the Mages' Tower. It was a vast, cylindrical structure of frowning stone broken only by the balconies and windows around its circumference, rising up for*ten stories before its roof terminated in crenulated battlements. Constructed by a fusion of magic and more traditional stoneworking, it was easily the tallest building in Namor province and was visible even from the outskirts of Emor. It seemed unusually well lit tonight, a yellow light glowing from its arched windows.

Looking around for landmarks that would enable him to find the portal again, Ovidius ghosted through the castle gardens and up the marble steps that led to the Guild's main entrance. The vast oak doors stood slightly open. Ovidius knelt and pressed his eye to the gap to peer through before proceeding.

"Oh dear." the spy whispered to himself.

Slipping through the door and drawing the bronze dagger that was sheathed inside his left sleeve, Ovidius was instantly hit by a wave of heat and an awful, cloying smell. The drapes and tapestries that hung along either side of the entrance hall, intended to impress visitors, were aflame with a lurid yellow fire that seemed not to give off any smoke. There was evidence of fighting in the form of scorch marks from magical discharges, as well as more conventional weapons lying dropped on the floor. There were also bodies - older men and women as well as some who seemed to be little more than children, lying in pools of congealed blood. A few blackened outlines, like the impressions of corpses that had spontaneously caught fire and then incinerated without a trace, made Ovidius clutch at a protective icon of Mars hanging around his neck.

Demon sign.

He stopped by the body of one young mage, his dead fingers hooked into claws. The blood was fresher on this one, still dripping from the open wound in the boy's neck. There were also red stains on the boy's face and hands, though Ovidius assumed that that was from coughing up blood and clutching at the wound. There was no doubt who could have killed him - it had to be the masked man.

Instinct was telling Ovidius to turn back, but he had to find out more. Swallowing hard, he advanced towards the central staircase that spiralled up the length of the tower. There he paused, unsure if the masked man had gone up or down. He listened, but heard only the crackle of the unearthly flames behind him. Then there was a sudden crash from the basement level, and Ovidius began to hurry downstairs, hugging the inside wall. A pale light was emanating from somewhere ahead of him, reflecting off the curved walls. Passing through an iron gate that had been torn from its hinges he came to a kind of dungeon, a circular room filled with bookshelves - at least it had been until someone had torn the cases down and splintered them across the floor. Ripped pages of handwritten notes were everywhere, some of them splashed with red. In the flickering light Ovidius saw that the blood had come from an old mage, what was left of whom lay slumped against the far wall. The man had been killed so brutally that chunks of flesh and viscera had been splattered across the entire floor and most of the circular wall. The stench was appalling.

The glow that illuminated the carnage came from a rectangle of light that shimmered in the air, in the very centre of the room. A hunched figure was stood in front of it with his back to Ovidius, gazing into the light. It wasn't the masked man - the figure wore a mage's distinctive red toga.

"Hey!" Ovidius called out to the man, his voice a low hiss as he spun his dagger around to conceal it against his forearm. "What happened?"

At the sound of the spy's voice the figure snapped round, revealing the massive falchion he held in his right hand. His*black hair*was matted with blood. His features were contorted with rage.

"Shit." said Ovidius matter-of-factly.

The blood-soaked mage let out a monstrous, sucking howl. Ovidius ran.

The spy retraced his steps three at a time, his hooded cloak trailing behind him as he sprinted up the stairs. Hearing the crazed mage right behind him, he didn't stop at the atrium but instead kept climbing, searching for somewhere to hide. The door of every room branching off from the staircase had been kicked in; some of the rooms beyond were awash with the same pale fire as the entrance hall, while others were shrouded in darkness. A man of the shadows, Ovidius chose the latter. He sprang off his right foot and dived left into an abandoned classroom on the second floor. Its outer window was smashed, the balcony open to the still night air. The floor was full of broken furniture and, more horrifically, several dead students.

The mage slowed as he approached the room, dragging the tip of his falchion along the inner column of the staircase with a low scraping sound. He ducked through the open door of the classroom, turning his head left and right as if sniffing the air. The spy thought he was good, but he wasn't good enough. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, the mage picked out a deeper shadow lurking beside a toppled desk, its outline softened by a familiar dark cloak. He was waiting in ambush, ready to jump the mage when he got close enough and negate the advantage of his heavy weapon. The mage resisted the urge to grin as he stalked towards the centre of the room. With a sudden explosion of speed, he changed direction and lunged for the spy's hiding place. Caught by surprise, Ovidius didn't have a chance to defend himself - the falchion slashed down and the crouching man's head went spinning away, rolling to a stop at the mage's foot.

The head wasn't that of Ovidius. It was the already-dead class lecturer.

Without warning the tip of a dagger exploded from the mage's throat, drawing a strangled cry from the man. He collapsed forward onto his knees, ripping the blade out of Ovidius' hand as he fell. The spy stepped back, steadied himself, and instead went to retrieve the cloak that he had draped hurriedly around the dead teacher. He wanted the insane mage's heart to stop before he pulled his dagger back out; otherwise blood would fountain everywhere.

But the mage did not fall. Instead, he stood up, and closed his free hand around the dagger hilt protruding from the back of his neck. He pulled it free with a jerk, and there was a brief trickle of blood before the wound closed itself. With his wicked falchion in one hand and Ovidius' dagger in the other, the mage turned round to face his would-be killer. His eyes were gone - replaced by flaring pools of red light.

"Oh shit!" Ovidius cursed again, this time with much more feeling. The mage wasn't just insane; he was possessed. And unlike iron or steel, bronze was not lethal to demons.

The Bartender
11-01-2012, 04:32 PM
Numiera was following the three men throught the forest, on distance but still inside the line of sight of the soldiers. She had begun to trust the men and came nearer and nearer as they moved throught the forest. Numiera had crafted herself a new bow during the last days and finally the group reached the edge of the forest and Numiera pulled her cloack over her head so anyone wouldn't see her horns.

"I suppose we can let you go now - we'll be gone long before any..."
Numiera wanted to say something but then a group of people arrived, riding on horses and thus she stayed silent and hid behind the masked man and tried to keep quiet.

“Hmmm, no, the spy can stay with us. It would be safer for her that way, unless you have a problem with is Salvius.“
Numiera looked at the masked man and smiled a bit.
"Thank you..." She sighed.

La Volpe
11-01-2012, 08:48 PM
Kuronus stood back from the rest as they talked... The women that they had met up with was beautiful, but the whole situation made him feel incredibly uneasy... Maybe it was the fact that they were talking about Anubis... When ever the gods were mentioned the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Looking at the vanguard Kuronus smiled, it was always impressive how royal guards never lost focus. At the mention of a pursuing presence, Kuronus smiled "Princess, I'll follow your trail back too see if your suspicions were true... Go ahead and make camp... I'll be back by night fall." As he finished saying this Kuronus pulled the hood of his cloak up and began to head the way the convoy had come from.

Death of Korzan
11-03-2012, 01:39 AM
Alongside Minerva

Three days into their march and with the battle against their Roman counterparts behind them, the surviving members of the thundering legion moved around Minerva towards war-stricken Hercine. With thoughts of Combrogia dashed from their mind, the legion moved to prepare for a full scale attack on invaders in Hercine. Every few hours or so along the road they would spot a fleeing citizen of the country, running and screaming from a threat that never seemed to follow. This disturbed some of the Legion, and talking began to arise in their ranks, talking of Demons and the Undead.

Eventually on the path, the thundering Legion stopped before a well made stone bridge, a bridge that wasn't on any of the recent maps that the legion carried. Decius Marcius stepped off of his replacement steed, setting his feet onto the worn pathway that covered the Floodplain of the Minerva.

Standing in the middle of the bridge was a very large man, borderline 7 foot possibly. His eyes were a beautiful amber and his arms and legs as big as tree trunks. He held a barbed staff that he pressed against the ground, on his back was a beautiful silver pelt from an animal that no one in the legion, not even those from hunting families could place their finger on. His top was made of chain mail and his jaw and chin was lined with a small stubble. The man watched Decius, who slowly walked towards the bridge, his hand placed on the hilt of his sword at all times. As Decius approached the bridge, the mysterious man began to laugh.

“There is no need to be so hostile Decius. I am a friend!” The man approached Decius, without hesitation or hostility; the man instead approached Decius like a man would approach an ex-comrade, or an old best friend. “Come come, my house is down here, I'm sure you would love to see.” Although Decius had never met the man, he followed for some odd reason, it were as if fate was forcing him.

He left his tribunes with the legion and told Caldus, the grim young man who had replaced Salvius as his personal bodyguard, to wait outside.

"With respect, sir." Caldus said, looking troubled, "I'm your bodyguard."

Marcius clapped the other man on his segmented shoulder armour. "So please guard this side of the door."

The man's house was a simple log built home, a roaring Marble fire adorned the far wall, but the area gave off a lovely heat and the beautiful smell of roasted deer. “Are you hungry? What about your men? I have enough food and provisions to last a solid week and I can share. Plus if I get hungry I can always go out hunting.”

"A generous offer." Marcius nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But I doubt you have enough to feed 6000 men. Don't worry, we've got enough supplies to see us through to Hercine."

“You would be surprised at what a good hunter can catch in the space of a few weeks.” A single dog sat on another pelt, this time being completely black, next to the fire, his wise eyes watching Decius with an intent glare. The Huntsman retreated to another room and returned with a few pieces of roasted game. “It is all good, I would not worry. I think of myself as quite the cook.”
Shrugging, the Legatus decided to be polite and took the offered meat. It was indeed very good.

The Hunter sat on a stool near the fire and looked at Decius. “So, I saw you fighting those dastardly Romans down by that bridge into Combrogia. Quite the fight out there, left quite a few of them alive though I must say, almost enough to reform the whole legion.”
Marcius shook his head, putting down the chunk of venison. He had naturally assumed that the hunter was talking about the prisoner train. "Maybe 500 survivors. It looks like a lot but hardly enough to reform a legion, especially with two centuries guarding them all the way back to Emor."

The Huntsman stroked his face, his brow furrowed in curiosity. “I guess you have other legions to deal with that problem though.”

Marcius returned the frown. "What problem? How much trouble could 500 chained, unarmed men cause?"

“500? It looked far more than that my friend. Although they seemed to lack a large amount of their armour and equipment. They still looked bloody dangerous...and bloody dirty on that matter; Oh well, as I said, other legions, bigger fish to fry yada yada.” The Huntsman bit into his own piece of meat, savouring it; he preferred his food uncooked.

“If you wanted to know, your little questing party made it through without any problems. Of course they had some help off of me, fools didn't know how to keep quiet in the forest, without me they would've been strung up with old Boar-Skull hours back...”

Marcius slowly leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. This Hunter clearly knew something he didn't. And how could he possibly have known about Salvius and his mission?

"Who are you?" he asked the Hunter levelly.

“It matters not who I am Decius, if you think I mean you harm then I wouldn't bother, I could've slaughtered your whole legion if I wanted to, but I didn't, and shall not. I have a member of my family in the company of your little questing party and I'm sure that if they found out that I had killed you all then they would turn on him.” The Hunter smiled at Decius. “Eat up man, your meat'll get cold!”

Marcius didn't understand everything the Hunter was saying, but he thought he understood enough.

"Okay," he said as he picked up his venison once more, "One more thing though. What did you mean about the red-crests? The Romans?"

“Back to the conversation about them aye? Straight to business, I like it. Come come, I have something to show you, we can walk and talk. Bring your food.”

The Huntsman rose from his stool, pushing a wooden door next to the fireplace. The door opened up into the forest, with a few buildings, stables, outside of the door. Without turning towards Decius, the Huntsman spoke to him: “I saw your horse get badly injured, the poor black beast, beautiful animal it was, bloody disgusting sea monsters, worst of the lot of them I say, then again, I'm a forest man myself.”

Walking towards the stables with Decius, The Huntsman pushed open the door, revealing not horses, but huge wolves, with tusks pointing out of the bottom part of their jaws. Each was a different colour, one with a golden pelt, the other with a silver pelt and another with a blue-grey pelt.

“My pretty little friends. They're extremely loyal I tell you. Take whatever one you want. Proud creatures but they will serve you, you may even bond with him. Think of him like a dog, if you treat him well he will come to love you, if you don't, he'll bite your arm off and leave you in the depths of the forest.”

Marcius looked down at the three lupines in surprise. He had never seen their like anywhere across Eternum. Warily, he knelt down and regarded the grey-pelted one, who stared back at him with focussed intelligence.

"What do you call this one?" he asked the Huntsman. "For that matter, what do you call these things in general?"

As he spoke, he felt the second scabbard at his waist twitch.

'No!' a familiar voice hissed in his mind, 'I am your companion!'

The wolf thing seemed to notice the pulse of energy that came off the demon weapon, and it growled low in its throat.

“Silence Demon.” The Huntsman waved his hand and Hate ceased it's movement. “Powerful weapon you have there boy.” The Hunter took in a large intake of air through his nose and grimaced. “The weapon smells disgusting, you'd do well keeping that thing bound, it's nothing but trouble. Use it only when you need to my boy.”

The Huntsman looked towards the chosen animal and without turning his head he said: “This is Silverwick. As with his kin, he is strong as an elephant, large as a horse and just as fast. A worthy mount for a worthy man. He seems to like your scent as well...” The Huntsman then turned to Decius. “Shall I have him saddled up?”

Marcius looked at the beast called Silverwick, which stared levelly back at him. "No." he said after a moment. "A magnificent hunting animal, yes, but a mount? I think I'll stick to horses. He can run with us."

It wasn't just the unfamiliarity that pushed Marcius to the decision - there was something noble about the predatory beast that made it feel almost disrespectful to use it as a mount. From its strange appearance to its intelligent gaze, it was clearly a creature of the gods.

"Gratitude for the gift." he said to the Huntsman formally, inclining his head. "Now, what can you tell me about the Romans you saw?"

“Well, hunting animal or mount, whatever you prefer. I shall give you his reins either way, in case you change your mind.” The Huntsman then wiped his brow and made a few guttural tones towards Silverwick. The Dire Wolf looked towards Decius once more and got up. He was indeed as large as a horse, with talons on his feet and huge, pointed teeth covering his jaw.

A voice echoed inside Decius's head: 'Sure you don't want to ride me, soft skin?' Silverwick made a noise that sounded a lot like a Hyena's cry, a wolfish grin adorning the lupine's face. The Legatus couldn't help the expression of shock that crossed his face - he immediately controlled it and chided himself; after all, he already had a gods-damned*sword*that could talk.

“Oh do shut up Silverwick, don't mind him, he's only playing around.” The Hunter smiled at Decius. “So you want to know about the Romans still? Well, they all seemed to just...get up out of them shallow graves you dug for them. That legate fellow Septum came out of the forests soon after and gathered them all together, god knows who they were going after.”

Marcius stiffened, and cursed under his breath. With a swirl of his indigo cloak he turned and began striding towards the stable door, Silverwick following amusedly in his wake.

"Sorry." the Legatus said as he crunched through the straw, "Excuse me..."

The Borders of Combrogia

As Kuronus ran along the path that the nobility had come from, in the distance stood a figure. A tattered hood covering his bone white body and a long black metal scythe held between his long bony hands, it had been Death that had been following the royal escort through their journey. As Kuronus came closer and closer to the windswept figure, it felt as if time began to go slower. A great fatigue set over the Wolf-man and in his head a booming voice raced through his conscience.

“You travel to a place of great suffering. You avoid the inevitable, and whilst your precious empire is struck down and those around you are destroyed, you choose to enter the land of Demons, hoping that trinkets will save you from Revenge. He will rise, and you shall fall.”

The air was like thick syrup now, and Kuronus would have been feeling as if heavy weights had been strapped to his legs as he moved.

“Your Empire will crumble and I will reap the souls of your dead. Do you wish to know how your beloved village screamed as you tore them apart like a wild beast. You will know fear Kuronus, as shall Gabriel, he who thinks he is indestructible, he who thinks he has escaped me. The Dark Maiden and her kin are watching you as we speak. Sleep lightly, this is their land...”

Death turned away from Kuronus and disappeared into the shadows.

The Mages Guild

As the Demon closed in on Ovidius, a darker shadow dropped down behind the possessed Mage, a single, iron blade with various symbols engraved into the blade shot through the back of the Mage's head and into its mouth. The possessed man screamed as red light began to shine out of his eyes, lighting the whole room and it's graphic images quite well. The Mage slowly began to disintegrate, turning to ash and eventually leaving only its killer, The Assassin, behind it.

The Assassin held both of his daggers and he stared intently at the scout, before slowly approaching. “Forgive me friend, but my mother's will must be carried out...” The Assassin prepared to make the kill...

Setsa
11-03-2012, 03:12 AM
“So woman… you’re having trouble with… Anubis?” He said as he began walking to the woman, yet making sure not to get too close. “If Anubis is part of the attack, you might as well call it quits and retreat your armies. I don’t mean to come off as insulting, but it seems as though that your men cannot handle him. And the more he kills, the weaker you become. That is the way of Anubis.” He said in a serious yet quite tone.

“And for this… thing… following you, is there anyway you can describe it for me?” He then walked up to one of the guardsmen and touched his weaponry, analyzing it and showing no fear.

Nesara straightened her back raising her hand up to stop her guards from cutting attacking the one with the ill-tongue words towards her. "You are not of this world stranger... so I suggest you watch your tongue towards not just me, but everyone here. It's best to make friends then enemies in these parts.." The princess took a soft breath in before continuing her honnied words. "I know of Anubis and what he can do...we will survive long as we are meant to. Such being long past my reign of rule if I have anything to say about it, wisdom is always welcomed as is respect. As for the following creature..if I could describe it I would have given it a name based off such if it didn't already have one."

The guard drew up his shield sharply in response to Gabriel touching the dangerous end of his spear, forcing the stranger to release his touch.

"Princess, I'll follow your trail back too see if your suspicions were true... Go ahead and make camp... I'll be back by night fall."

"I appreciate your offer and gladly accept such sir." Bow of the head following as she watches the other unnamed man walk past them and down the road they just rode from.

"So Salvius" Nesara said while gracefully stepping onto solid ground with her own two feet. "shall we discuss things? Perhaps exchange names of those I am unaware of here in our presence as I take it they are apart of your traveling group? For if you trust them then I shall as well unless proven otherwise." A soft smile on her lips as she looked up at the helmit rider, holding onto the reins of his mare who nickered softly in response, nudging Nesara lightly for affection. Getting with her free hand a gentle touch over her velvet soft nose.

Azazeal849
11-03-2012, 01:24 PM
The Assassin held both of his daggers and he stared intently at the scout, before slowly approaching. “Forgive me friend, but my mother's will must be carried out...” The Assassin prepared to make the kill...

As the Assassin lunged Ovidius ducked left, kicking out at the masked man's leg. It was just enough to stagger him and Ovidius took the opportunity to break past him towards his dagger and the falchion, which had clattered to the ground with the demon-mage's demise. The Assassin however recovered quickly, seizing the hem of Ovidius' cloak. The spy slipped out of the woollen garment just as one of the Assassin's blades sliced through the cloth, and skidded on his knees towards his dropped weapon. A sweeping kick from behind sent him tumbling away from it, crashing over broken furniture to slide across the open balcony. Ovidius' forehead cracked against the stone banister and his vision exploded into stars.

The Assassin was about to dart forward and finish off the immobile spy when an amused grunt from behind made him spin round instead.

“Am I interrupting?” a tenor voice said silkily.

Behind the eyeholes of his white mask, the Assassin's eyes narrowed. “Hothian.”

Ovidius came to a moment later, and cuffing the blood out of his eyes he registered the tall, thin man who had appeared at the door. His black hair fell to his shoulders and his features were chiselled to the point of being gaunt. His eyes were roiling pits of red fire.

As the Assassin leapt forward to attack, Ovidius himself temporarily forgotten, the spy realised that he was in way over his head and that he had to get out of here. Forcing himself to move, he gripped the balcony with one hand and hauled himself over it.

The Assassin caught the movement with the corner of his eye, and let out an angry shout. The curved sickle that Ovidius had seen him carrying earlier was back in his hand in an instant, and with a flick of his wrist the Assassin sent it spinning through the air towards Ovidius. The shard of silver intercepted the spy as he jumped, slicing across his ribs. The spy shouted in pain even as he disappeared over the balcony and out of sight.

Ovidius landed hard from the second floor balcony, only just keeping the focus to roll with the impact and spread its force across his shoulder and back. Pain knifed through his side as he scrambled up, just as a jet of fire exploded from the window of the classroom he had just abandoned. The demon-spawned fire spread out across the walls, seething over the black stone, crackling like caged lightning. Ovidius, limping and clutching his wounded side, just ran.


* * * * * *

Salvius carefully suppressed any visible signs of amusement as the Afragian princess effortlessly put Gabriel in his place, Earthborn or not.

"So Salvius." Nesara said while gracefully stepping onto solid ground with her own two feet. "Shall we discuss things? Perhaps exchange names of those I am unaware of here in our presence as I take it they are a part of your travelling group? For if you trust them then I shall as well unless proven otherwise." A soft smile on her lips as she looked up at the helmed rider, holding onto the reins of his mare who nickered softly in response, nudging Nesara lightly for affection. Getting with her free hand a gentle touch over her velvet soft nose.

Salvius swung his right leg out of the saddle and dropped to the ground, his scale armour chinking as he landed.

“This is Gabriel.” he said, gesturing towards the silent warrior with his dark robes and cracked face mask. “And the man who just volunteered to retrace your steps is Koronus, a Combrogian who used to serve in the legion auxilia.”

He turned to Numiera, a slight frown creasing his brow.

“And this is Numiera, who we found in the forest. I was going to let her go now that we're out of it.”

“Hmmm, no, the spy can stay with us. It would be safer for her that way, unless you have a problem with it Salvius. “ Gabriel gestured while still sitting.

Numiera looked at the masked man and smiled a bit.

"Thank you..." she sighed.

“Safer for her?” Salvius repeated Gabriel, frowning again. He doubted that the crossbreed girl would have the same opinion of Tartarus when and if they got there, even if she had started clinging to them for protection on the way through Combrogia. Not only that, but to his experienced eye there was little that she could offer to their group. It wasn't because she was female – a woman might not be able to swing a gladius as hard as a man, or pierce armour at the same distance with her shorter-draw bow, but in fields where raw strength were not as applicable they could show just as much bravery and endurance. The female mages who had accompanied his legion once or twice were a good example, and the Dun Morigan gunners had a few women among their number. It wasn't so much because Numiera was young either; but from her timidity, her hesitant speech and her nervousness around others, Salvius had been able to tell pretty quickly that this wasn't someone who could be easily made into a soldier.

“With respect, I don't agree.” he said, keeping his formal and polite tone for Nesara's sake. “It'd be much more dangerous for us and her if she stayed.”

He didn't see Numiera's reaction as he pulled off his helmet and scanned the treeline behind them.

“Speaking of safety, we'd be better getting off the road to eat – we'll be less visible.”

As Kinyou and the other three Afragian guards found an area of sunken ground and began to take out their cooking pots, Kinyou himself keeping lookout, Salvius sat down next to Nesara when she indicated that he should do so rather than stand rigidly to attention.

“So what are you going to do, domina?” the centurion ventured, “I'd advise avoiding the forest, but it'll take you a long time to go round. Even if you make it to Emor it'll take time for the Emperor to levy more men to send to Afragia. You could try waiting here for praetor Maximus who should be passing along here in a few days with the Southern army, but of course he's already got his orders...” A grim look crossed the centurion's rough-hewn face. “I'm sorry I can't give you any better news.”


* * * * * *

Calvus was still waiting by the front door of the huntsman's house when Marcius came pacing round the side of the building, his helmet in the crook of his arm and a troubled expression on his face.

“Bloody hell.” the bodyguard exclaimed as Silverwick came into view, loping easily behind the legion commander. “What's that?”

“A gift.” Marcius answered, “If we haven't just had another godly visitation then I'm a Southron. But we've got a bigger problem. Find Cassius - tell him to detach some of our cavalry and have them scout back along our route immediately, at least as far as the ford over the Minerva. The hunter said that the Romans might be back.”

“Back, sir?” Calvus questioned as he matched stride with the legatus, trying to ignore the low breathing of the huge wolf that trotted behind them.

“As in back from the dead.” said Marcius. “Things might have just got a hell of a lot worse.”

La Volpe
11-04-2012, 09:04 PM
Kuronus followed the trail easily, but what bothered him was what he smelled... it wasn't natural... that's for sure... familiar yet unknown at the same time... what ever it was... it was a ways behind the group. Kuronus shook his head... How in Tartarus did he always get himself mixed up in these messes? Looking up at the darkening sky the blood inside Kuronus seemed to heat up.... Two more nights... Then the moon will be here He thought to himself... Maybe in that state... he could help more then just as a guide... Yes... I'll find what ever is following us on that night and attack... He let a wolfish grin spread onto his face as he thought about the coming hunt.

Epostle
11-07-2012, 04:32 AM
Gabriel

Gabriel got a response that he did not typically receive so often from the woman he was talking to. Normally, Gabriel does not take in consideration of such warnings, but in this case, he was going to let it slide. He liked to see bravery in people, whether it is misplaced or not. Maybe she was right, maybe he should watch what he says… for the moment. “Good words woman. I am not of this world, so maybe I’ll play nice for now. “ He said in a smart tone.

“And for you Salvius, I don’t care what you think. It’s going to be one of 3 things. Either she’s coming with us, going with this other girl who deals with Anubis, or me and her go alone and you can find your way to Tartarus alone. If you haven’t noticed or not, something reeks in this forest and she will not make it another day in here.” He said harshly, hopefully wanting to put some sense into him for once.

“But… I will agree about getting off the road. Personally, I want to check the forest myself before I do any kind of indulging. For now, everyone should stay here.” He said as he walked off into the darkness that was the forest. His true intentions were to get away from everyone, even though the excuse he gave them sounded like a success due to the feeling in the forest.

The further Gabriel walked, he started to notice a bog. It became thicker with each step until it became so thick that a regular person wouldn’t be able to see 2 feet in front of their own face. Gabriel could actually feel the bog it was so thick. It was disgusting, especially since he had weird feelings about the forest anyways.

After a few hours of patiently walking and trying to gather his mind, Garbiel came upon a lake. It wasn’t normal however since it actually reeked of blood and decay. He sat upon a rock that overlooked the lake. The lifeless lake almost seemed to call out to Gabriel in a sense. It seemed to mock him with its absolute silence, yet whispers in the air. The odd feeling is that Gabriel started to feel comfortable with the position he was at. He began to think to himself about his sword. Throughout most of this time, he felt something wrong. It was as if the sword was not calling him anymore, which worried Gabriel.

Chaaru

“Warlock… I told you to hurry up… I know he’s alive and you need to take me to him!” Chaaru was becoming infuriated with the warlock. Chaaru began pacing up and down the room, trying to keep his composure. “You know… maybe I should have gotten another warlock… you know… THE ONES WHO DON’T TAKE 20 DAYS TO CAST A SPELL TO GET WHAT I NEED!!!”

The warlock then replied. “Nuh uh uh… temper temper… it takes quite a bit of power to make a inter-planetary gateway you know. Just be glad that the guards didn’t stop you or more, otherwise you woud be stuck here, without your friend or whatever he is.” The warlocks incantations upon the wall were beginning to glow.

“I suppose so… usually killing these earthen guardians is more fun than what it was this time. I hate the earthborn sometimes… especially… them…” He said with a low growl. The portal finally opened, making whines and cries with gusts of wind entering the vortex.

“Eureka! Now… this may take you to a place full of magic. Be warned Chaaru, not all is as it seems in this other world. Now go!” The warlock said as Chaaru stepped through the portal, instantly being close behind him. Drifting through nothingness, Chaaru couldn’t help but to think what this world is going to be like… and if Gabriel is indeed where he is supposed to be.

In the mages guild, the vortex opened up and emitted energies throughout some of the halls of the guild. Then out of the portal came out Chaaru, standing tall and presentable. He then looked around and saw a lot of fire as well as blood. He could smell blood as well, which made Charuu mildly excited. Chaaru couldn’t help but to notice a boy running down the hall towards him. “Little boy… what are you doing?” Chaaru said with a sadistic smile.

Azazeal849
11-07-2012, 05:06 PM
The city watch wasn't a bad job, Titus Galenus reflected as he rested his arms on his grounded tower shield just outside the locked and bolted south gate of Emor. You got paid almost as much as those glory boys in the legions, while getting to enjoy significantly more creature comforts. Of course, every now and then you got stuck with night watch duty, which meant standing around in the cold when the rest of the garrison was in the local tavern. Sometimes the barmaids would carry cups of hot, mulled wine out to the watchmen still on duty, but Galenus doubted that'd be happening tonight with that uptight bastard Solonius looking over his shoulder.

The sentry rolled his shoulders to loosen the muscles, pulled his indigo cloak back into position around himself, then frowned as he heard hoofbeats striking against stone. They were moving at a brisk canter, echoing down the paved road. He pushed the protective brim of his helmet up to see better, and witnessed a man on a grey horse emerging from the darkness into the light cast by the gate lamps. He was riding badly, half-slumped against his horse's neck. The horse itself was flecked with foam and blowing hard, giving the impression of having run a long way.

"Halt!" Galenus challenged the man, "Who goes there?"

"My name is Aulus Ovidius," the man on the horse rasped, "In the employ of Lycinia of house Marcius, and I've got important news for her. Open the fucking gates."

Titus stared at the man. He wore no cloak despite the cool air, and his right hand was pressed against his left side. Belatedly, he saw the darker patch of wet fabric under the man's hand, and the red stain seeping through his fingers. He turned and hammered on the door.

"Hey Gneus! Open up!"

About ten minutes later, Lycinia Marci and her household were woken by the ringing of the iron gates outside her villa as someone hammered for attention. Lycinia herself bundled a simple dress over her head and reached the veranda in time to see Ovidius not so much climb down as topple from his horse into the arms of her surprised house slaves. Lycinia beckoned to Hercinia as the older slave emerged bleary-eyed from the servants' quarters.

"Make sure the children are still in bed." Lycinia told her briskly, "Then go find the medicus. Hurry!"

Ovidius didn't wait until his wounds were dressed to tell his story. Indeed, he barely allowed the house-slaves to see him to a spare bed in the villa's cool interior.

"Hothian?" Lycinia frowned as the spy finished, his speech stilted by the pain that was clearly knifing through his ribs every time he drew breath. "That's what the assassin called him?"

"I'm not saying he was the ringleader," Ovidius coughed, and then grimaced at the pain the reflex caused. "But the assassin clearly knew him. And he was powerful. He blew out half the building right after I jumped."

Lycinia nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. "The Emperor needs to know about this."

"Yes, but will he do anything?" Ovidius replied, gritting his teeth. "Usually the city and the Guild see to their own defences, and the mages don't exactly like us interfering."

A smile tugged at the corner of Lycinia's mouth. "You're clearly not a politician, Ovidius. The Emperor's been looking for an excuse to curb the Guild's independence for years, ever since he heard that a few of the mages were defecting to the South. He'll act, if not to protect the city then for that. I'll go to the palace at first light." The young woman stood, and dusted off the back of her dress. "Try and rest now, Ovidius. You've done well and I'll make sure you're rewarded for it."

"Your servant, domina." the spy rasped.

Lycinia swept out of the room and called over Afragia, who was waiting outside with a cloth and a bowl of water for cleaning wounds. "Look after him until the medicus gets here."

The dark-skinned girl nodded silently and ducked through the low door into the sleeping chamber.


* * * * * *

Salvius was constrained in his response by the deeply ingrained tenet that you didn't lose your cool in front of a superior officer - or in this case, a foreign princess. As such, he just tightened his hand around his sword hilt as he watched Gabriel stalk away into the trees, and wondered if it was a racial trait of the Earthborn to be so far up their own arses. Of the Sky Men he had met so far he was two out of two for ones who seemed to take it for granted that they could step into any situation and expect everyone else to let them take control of it, before flouncing out without actually resolving anything. The threat to leave them to go alone, as if Gabriel had got it into his head that he was an indespensible member of the squad rather than Koronus' tagalong, struck Salvius as particularly ridiculous. Although he trusted Koronus, he found himself wondering how in the 12 hells the hunter had ended up in the company of Gabriel. He reined in his annoyance and turned away.

"Shall we carry on without him, then?" the centurion said offhandedly to Kinyou, who was watching from the sidelines. With the Afragian guards here, at least he could count on some professionalism until the other Namorians who were scheduled to meet with him turned up. Soldiers who couldn't work together, had trouble following orders, or otherwise chafed under authority tended to either be discharged or have the deficiencies flogged out of them at an early stage of training. Salvius shrugged to loosen his shoulders and turned to Numiera, the source of all the current discord.

"What are we going to do with you?" he asked her in a neutral tone. "The forests might not be safe, but we're on our way to Tartarus, which is about the least safe place on Eternum. And while I can't speak for the others, I don't have enough supplies to get both of us that far." He paused, cradling his plumed helmet in his hands. "So," he finished, pronouncing each word of the last sentence slowly and exactly, "What do we do?"

Setsa
11-10-2012, 01:28 PM
Nesara was one who didn't care for titles or ranking etiquette durring a conversation. Conversations are to be enjoyed...not matter the conversation for the most part. To watch someone stand rigid was not going to work especially after the distance of travel everyone there had done. The guards were least appreciated to give some extra support. Already fresh carcasses of recently caught came were being cooked or rotated on the spit while many pots of coffee or tea were brewing along the fire's age for the weary men.

“So what are you going to do, domina?” the centurion ventured, “I'd advise avoiding the forest, but it'll take you a long time to go round. Even if you make it to Emor it'll take time for the Emperor to levy more men to send to Afragia. You could try waiting here for praetor Maximus who should be passing along here in a few days with the Southern army, but of course he's already got his orders...” A grim look crossed the centurion's rough-hewn face. “I'm sorry I can't give you any better news.”

"Believe me Salvius, any news is better than none. I don't have the time to go around the forest, that option was thrown out days ago. To follow the political way of the Emperor for aid would take a while if he agrees, then more time to get them down there. Time I may not have for my people.... To wait for Maximus is an unsteady option as I don't care to be a sitting duck for days in wait, and there is no guarentee he'd even be here within 5 suns from now."

Nesara was weighing her options carefully as she had been for a good while now. Seemed thats all she did recently, taking all factors in before figuring out whats best for her people and her kingdom. Such is expected of a ruler though she'd prefer it to be under better conditions...and not dealing with Anubis.

Looking at Salvius beside her the princess began to speak of another option. "Maximus in the letter I showed you, said something about you awaiting more troops to join you around here.... Could I request to your kind nature the possibility of dispatching some to my kingdom and perhaps one of your most trusted men to lead them and join with the elected senate in protecting my people? I know it is much to ask but I am sure you would as well look at all options to keep those you protect safe as well."

Watching the legionaire debate now on the fate of the girl, Nesara stood up to stretch her legs while keeping a listening ear to the conversation, so far one sided. Tending to a soldier's shoulder that was healing, wiping it clean with a hot, wet rag to the man's sigh of relief. "Gabriel's knowledge into Tartarus is of unmeasurable value..... There fore a nessesity unless you yourself know the way Salvius. From what I can tell, she can hunt.... Looking at Numiera "am I right now? Can you hunt to help feed the troops?" Putting clean bandages on the soldier now as if it was second nature to her. "If so then I say long as she can help she can come....keep your friends close and enemies..or unknown even closer." Excusing the soldier the woman rinsed off her hands from the dried blood and grime. "I ask you think about it and toss your thoughts at me as I tend to your own wounds... Or aching muscles...we can't have any man down or slowed right now."

The Bartender
11-10-2012, 05:16 PM
Numiera was sitting further away from the group and their bonfire as she didn't enjoy bright lights at all. She had taken out a piece of dried meat and was now nagging on it

"am I right now? Can you hunt to help feed the troops?" Asked the woman who the soldier called Salvius used to call her Princess.
Numiera nodded;
"Uhum... Somehow..." Numiera pulled her hood deeper over her face so the Princess couldn't see her face.

Azazeal849
11-12-2012, 04:48 PM
"Am I right now? Can you hunt to help feed the troops?"

"Uhum...somehow..." Numiera pulled her hood deeper over her face so the Princess couldn't see her face.

"I say as long as she can help she can come...keep your friends close and enemies...or unknown even closer." Excusing the soldier the woman rinsed off her hands from the dried blood and grime. "I ask you think about it and toss your thoughts at me as I tend to your own wounds... Or aching muscles...we can't have any man down or slowed right now."

It took an effort from Salvius to hide his surprise. A royal volunteering to act as medica to common soldiers was simply something he wasn't familiar with. While the Namorian emperors recognised the importance of winning over the common people and acted accordingly, he couldn't imagine Galen Claudius getting involved this personally. He wasn't sure if princess Nesara's display of humility was unseemly or a striking show of empathy.

"I'm uninjured, domina. Thank you." he managed after a moment, and stood a little straighter. "Alright you." he said to Numiera, turning towards the crossbreed girl who was still hovering uncertainly at the edge of the group, worrying her piece of meat. He wasn't going to countermand the princess' decision even if it did seem like the riskier option. "Looks like you're coming along. Just stay where I can see you. This is a military operation, not a hunting trip; and the road ahead isn't safe. Speaking of safety, we'd be better getting off the road to eat - we'll be less visible."

As Kinyou and the other three Afragian guards found an area of sunken ground and began to take out their cooking pots, Kinyou himself keeping lookout, Salvius sat down next to Nesara when she indicated that he should do so rather than stand rigidly at attention.

...

"Marcius, in the letter I showed you, said something about you awaiting more troops to join you around here.... Could I request to your kind nature the possibility of dispatching some to my kingdom and perhaps one of your most trusted men to lead them and join with the elected senate in protecting my people? I know it is much to ask but I am sure you would as well look at all options to keep those you protect safe as well."

The princess had a disarmingly sincere way of speaking when she was trying to be persuasive; so much so that Salvius felt an uncharacteristic discomfort at disappointing her with his answer. "I expect it'll only be a handful of men rather than a cohort, domina. Marcius and the Emperor both decided that a small group would have a better chance of slipping into Tartarus. If you don't think waiting for the invasion column is a good idea, perhaps we could escort you as far as Dun Moriga. The two legions there are the best placed to assist you - if the dwarves look like they have things under control then praetor Graccus might be willing to march on Afragia."

He didn't try to deceive the princess by keeping the note of doubt out of his voice. Dun Moriga and Afragia were the most lightly garrisonned provinces in the Imperium - mainly because, historically, they were the ones with the least unrest. The Emperor had even pulled the Legio Afragia from the garrison to bolster his southern invasion, leaving the remaining two legions stretched in the face of the sudden attack. Moreover, Nesara's own report suggested that the dwarves did not 'have things under control' at all. He would have to wait and see how many additional men the Emperor had dispatched to meet up with him. Chances were that he would need every one of the other Namorian champions for the mission into Tartarus, but he would see what he could do.

"Someone's coming out of the forest." Kinyou said suddenly. "Namorian."

Speak of the devil. Salvius thought, secretly glad of the excuse to extricate himself from the unpleasant task of repeatedly disappointing the Afragian princess. He got up and moved over to where Kinyou was crouching, keeping himself hidden behind the rise in the ground as he watched the forest edge. Kneeling beside the royal guard, Salvius could see a small knot of horsemen in Imperial blue riding out of the trees. They wore the distinctive sun-patterned breastplates of praetorian guardsmen - they had to be his reinforcements, the Emperor's other chosen men.

But something was wrong. The praetorians were galloping along the road, the wind billowing their indigo cloaks as they urged their horses forward. Their formation was staggered, loose. They were running from something.

"Mount up!" Salvius snapped over his shoulder to the others. "Trouble's coming!"

As he turned back towards the treeline he saw the Namorians' pursuers emerge. Perhaps twenty men on foot came howling out of the trees - monstrously tall men with flowing blonde hair. They were pale like the Norse and carried round shields, and the most striking among them was a brute of a man who despite his thickset frame still towered over his companions, his bulk accentuated by steel armour that was covered in fat, pyramidal spikes. He carried a metal shield studded with similar spikes and a warhammer that most Namorians would have struggled to weild in two hands, never mind one.

"Oh hell." Salvius muttered to Kinyou, "He looks dangerous."

He turned back to the others, this time gesturing urgently towards Numiera to get her to move. "Mount up!" he said again.

The barbarian soldiers were only on foot - in the open, on horses, they could outrun them. That was Salvius' plan as he seized his mare's bridle, still looking behind him at the fleeing praetorians and the barbarians running after them. He was still drawn inevitably towards the hulking man with the hammer, but he should have been watching the lithe, chisel-featured woman who was running alongside him. As the mounted praetorians freed themselves from the confines of the forest and began to pull away from their pursuers, she pointed a long sword towards them. There was a flicker of light and a loud bang remeniscent of thunder, right before the rearmost Namorian and his mount crumpled to the ground, rolling over and over as their forward momentum smashed them across the paved road.

Salvius cursed under his breath as he leapt up into the saddle and drew his sword, his heavy infantry shield still slung across his back. "They've got a mage!"

La Volpe
11-14-2012, 02:55 AM
Kuronus had circled back from the trail, a feeling of unease had plagued him shortly after loosing sight of the camp. And what he saw as he crested the hill concerned him greatly. Twenty men on foot had charged howling out of the trees, They were pale like the Norse and carried round shields, and the most frighting among them was a beast of a man who towered over his companions, he was coated in a suit of steel armor that was covered in deadly spikes. He carried a metal shield studded with similar spikes and a warhammer that would be able to crush a mans skull with one blow. And if the titan of a man wasn't enough, Kuronus heard a word that he prayed he'd never hear in battle.

Mage

Swinging his bow from his back, Kuronus broke into a sprint, knocking an arrow without breaking stride. He saw that the group was preparing to escape, and if he could buy them some time, he'd gladly do it. With a snarl, Kuronus let the first arrow fly, drawing another one mid stride. He didn't care if he actually hit any of the barbarians with his bow, he just wanted to draw there attention away for a few moments, then escape into the forest until he could meet back up with Salvius and the others.

Azazeal849
11-14-2012, 07:15 PM
Now that the shock was wearing off, Ovidius felt slightly better. What's more, Afragia's gentle sponging of the wound in his side revealed a relatively clean cut which, while painful whenever he breathed, had not bitten deep enough to cause any serious complications. He was also happy at mistress Lycinia's choice of who to task with looking after him. He glanced down appreciatively at the girl as she finished cleaning his wound. Several years younger than himself, her skin still had a youthful glow, and despite growing up in temperate Namor it was still the deep brown of an Afragian surface-dweller. Most of it was on show too, the slave girl having only had time to pull on a simple tunic when Ovidius had roused the villa with his late night arrival. Her hair, also black and naturally wavy, fell to her middle back without having had time to tie it up, and every now and then she would gather it over one shoulder to keep it out of the way.

"I'm glad that there's a silver lining at the end of this." Ovidius said to her.

The dark-skinned girl glanced up, but didn't reply.

Ovidius grinned slightly, biting his tongue. Despite having seen Afragia in her mistress' company for nearly half a year, and despite Afragia usually being the one Lycinia dispatched with a summons for him, they had never spoken at length. Most of what he knew about the girl he had picked up through tangential exchanges with Lycinia. He knew that she had been born in Emor, to two genuine Afragians who had come originally from the desert province. Most Namorian slave owners weren't overly critical of fraternisation among their servants - after all, by default they became the master's property. Decius Marcius' father, the original owner, had gifted Afragia to his son's new wife as a wedding present.

"I realised I never got your name." Ovidius added.

Afragia tilted her head, regarding him, and decided that the spy was teasing her.

"I've been domina's courier to you for, what, six months?" she said, in pleasantly-accented Namorian, "Slave or not, I must confess I'd be slightly hurt if you hadn't learned it by now master Ovidius."

"I know your Namorian name." Ovidius countered. Most Namorians renamed their slaves rather than try and remember the baffling array of local names from across the Imperium's many provinces - usually something simple like a common first name or, as in Afragia's case, a reference to their country of origin. "I mean the one your parents gave you. And don't give me that 'master' crap. I'd be hurt if you didn't remember me telling you to drop it on our second or third meeting."

Afragia shrugged her slender shoulders. "That was out in the forum. We have to be a bit more proper around the house."

"Okay, I'll just meet you on some more neutral ground next time. My place maybe?"

Afragia flicked her eyes up to meet his again. While slaves in the Imperium were legally classed as property, a series of bloody rebellions had prompted past Emperors to grant them some minimal rights, and they could usually rely on protection against the advances of strangers under their master's own roof. As such, she wasn't hesitant when she answered him - the offer amused her more than anything.

"If you haven't noticed, my day schedule tends to be pretty booked."

"Perhaps at night then? I make a living out of sneaking into places; I'm sure I could sneak you out."

Afragia laughed slightly, showing pearly teeth as she wrung out the cleaning cloth and dropped it back into the infusion of antiseptic herbs. "A slave sneaking out of their villa in the middle of the night without their master's permission and running about the streets of Emor? Yeah, that's a good idea."

"I'd keep you safe. Have you got something you'd rather be doing?"

"Yes. Sleeping."

"You don't trust me?" Ovidius grinned, and pulled himself up a little straighter.

"Of course not." Afragia said, matching his grin with a shrewd look in her eye. "You spy on people for money."

"Fair point."

"Anyway," she said, wringing out the cloth again and starting to sponge the wound on the spy's forehead, "You should be asking domina for permission to take me anywhere, not me."

"I intend to." the spy said, leaning back against his pillow so the dark-skinned slave could do her work. "I wanted to see your reaction first though."

"How considerate."

There was a pause, as Afragia stooped to wash the cloth.

"However." Ovidius added, "You never answered my other question. About your name."

Afragia eyed him carefully again. "Suriyana." she said at last, cracking a lopsided smile.

"Suriyana. Hmm. I like that."


* * * * * *

Lycinia was on the move shortly after first light. Despite her lack of sleep, she still looked elegant in a sea-blue dress with her hair tied up in a neat spiral and her dark eyes delicately outlined with kohl. With her was Aulus Ovidius, now with a cloth dressing wound tightly round his midsection underneath his tunic. Outside the Plaza Optimus, shopkeepers were taking advantage of the cool before the midmorning sun to set up there wares, and men and women in senators' robes were hurrying to the council chamber. There she met Seppia, who she had sent a messenger to as soon as Ovidius had stumbled in with his news the previous night. Her fellow noblewoman was accompanied by tall Combrogian slaves carrying a litter, which was still the only way her son was able to travel. Though the two were cousins, and good friends, Seppia made her reservation about forcing additional trauma on her shell-shocked son very clear.

“I'm not even sure the emperor will even see us.” she added tensely as they walked to the emperor's palace near Plaza Victoria, “He'll be expected at the senate.”

The names of Lycinia and Seppia's families carried some weight in the city of Emor however, and although they had to wait half an hour, they were eventually permitted to enter the palace and were taken to the emperor's audience hall. Praetorians in royal blue watched them from beside the marble columns that flanked the chamber as a dignitary led them up the golden carpet to a neutral-looking emperor Galen.

"Your Imperial Majesty," the dignitary announced as he retreated to one side, "Lycinia Caelesta Marci and Seppia Julia Octavi."

"Ave Imperator." both women said on cue, bowing their heads rather than making the military salute. The emperor waved away the formalities with a jerk of his hand, betraying the agitation he was feeling under his studiously dispassionate expression.

"A pleasure I'm sure." he said, "But what was so important that it couldn't be said this afternoon on the senate floor, with proper warning?"

"Apologies for the timing, your majesty." Lycinia replied, "But I thought you needed to hear this first rather than announcing it publicly to the senate and causing panic. There's demons abroad in Namor. They've overrun the Mages' Guild. That's why they've closed down their gates."

Galen Claudius leaned forward in his throne, a complex mixture of emotions warring for dominance on his face. "What."

"My agent Ovidius infiltrated the Guild last night and barely got out alive. There's also Seppia's son Titus, who managed to escape from the tower."

At the mention of his name Ovidius stepped out of the shadow of the antechamber and made his way across the floor to stand beside Lycinia. Eyebrows were raised by the litter that was carried in alongside him, curtains drawn back to reveal a sweating, shivering Titus.

"Tell me everything." the emperor snapped, rising from his chair, "And be quick!"

After listening to young Titus Octavius' stammered tale, and Ovidius' more coherent report of what he had seen at the Guild, the emperor sat back down, levering himself into his throne. He looked cagey, as well he might. Has Nemesis pissed on me enough for one day? he thought to himself. No! Let's add shit to the piss. Then again, the presence of this masked assassin only muddied the waters further. He could make a shrewd guess as to who his 'mother' had been, even if Lycinia and her agent couldn't. All the knowledge did however was confuse him even more as to what the goddess Nemesis was actually doing.

"Hothian." he whispered, glowering at Ovidius. The demon lord of insanity loose in his kingdom. That was all he needed. And who had triumphed? The assassin, or the demon? Where were the demons now?

"The only way," he growled after a moment, "That demons could have manifested in the Guild, so far from Tartarus, would be if someone had summoned them."

"My guess would be one of the mages." said Lycinia. "Technology either developed here or imported from Dun Moriga has been undermining their influence for decades. Why spend years studying magic when a blacksmith can knock together a solution in a day?"

Seppia nodded. "My husband studied at the Guild, he knows how they think. The mages have been stuck in an arms race, desperate to increase the power of their magic to stay ahead. One of them must have gone too far."

"We have to send one of the city legions to contain the outbreak." Lycinia urged, moving to the crux of her appeal, "It might take a while for the demons to break down the wards around the Guild walls, but if this spreads we'll have another war right outside the city gates."

The Bartender
11-15-2012, 01:56 PM
Perhaps twenty men on foot came howling out of the trees - monstrously tall men with flowing blonde hair. They were pale like the Norse and carried round shields, and the most striking among them was a brute of a man who despite his thickset frame still towered over his companions, his bulk accentuated by steel armour that was covered in fat, pyramidal spikes. He carried a metal shield studded with similar spikes and a warhammer that most Namorians would have struggled to weild in two hands, never mind one.
Just as she had started to relax a bit Numiera was shocked by the riders and the group following them, a huge mass of people coming right toward them; Numiera was terrified.
Then one of the strange, pale people running behind the horsemen launched a lightning bolt, crippling or killing most of the horses and riders. Numiera instantly looked up into the sky to see where the sun was, a quiet unusual thing to do during a combat but Numiera had to know. The sun was already quiet far down thus the shadows were big, good for Numiera.

The young half-blood grabbed her bow and ran quickly toward the forest. Once there Numiera jumped on a branch and "wanished" behind the leafs. She then took one of her arrows, attached the tip on it and moved to find the best position to shoot. After a short search, Numiera aimed and shot toward the nearest "Fiend". The arrow flew straight toward the man but the light arrow with a poor tip wouldn't harm him much... If there were no shadow.
In the flight, the arrow began to emit strange, black light and unexcepted it didn't fly toward the man but the ground, the shadow of the man and as it hit the shadow's head an open wound appeared on the side of the head of the man, a hole as big as an apple. Blood streamed out of it as the bone had disappeared and the grey brain mass bean to ooze out as the man fell down to the ground.

NUmiera had already taken the next position and prepared to shoot the next arrow. She knew it wasn't good to shoot more than one without waiting but there were so many "enemies" that she had to help the people, at least the kind princess.

Setsa
11-16-2012, 01:31 PM
"Mount up!" Salvius snapped over his shoulder to the others. "Trouble's coming!"

Nesara bolted upright from her seat, knowing not to ask questions within the mad scramble to break up camp and get a move on immediatley. The Princess covered her head with her cloak and ran to her stallion, grabbing the horn of the saddle and using her momentum...was in the saddle in a blink of an eye. Two of the her guards on each side as heels pressed into the stallion's side hard. "Kinyou let's go!!!" The royal guard was already on his was to the running group in attempts to catch up. Her cloak billowing behind from the made breeze at such racing speeds within the large legion mass.

The thundering sound that could deafen a person and the screams of alarm about a mage with the enemies was all she needed right then.... Grabbing her bow from it's strapped place on her saddle just in case as it was always better to be ready than full of regrets later. "Guards halt! Defend!" Nesara knew what that meant....they were going to fight the Norse men to make sure she got away as per protocol.... Within such a legion her safety was no question of concern with or without her guards. "Good luck! May Ra be with you all!" The woman said to watch those she came with race the other way to help those fighting before pulling the reins hard to the right. Turning back around and joining the fleeting race of hooves and men.

Azazeal849
11-21-2012, 03:22 PM
Behind the group there was a second thunderclap as the Viking mage pitched another praetorian and his horse to the ground. Salvius dragged his helmet onto his head with his free hand, not having time to lace up the leather straps beneath the cheek-pieces. As the Afragian guards leapt into their saddles, he looked around and cursed.

"Numiera...where's Numiera!?"

As Nesara and her escort spurred away, Salvius belatedly saw the crossbreed girl running towards the norsemen before vanishing into the trees. What did the bloody girl think she was doing? For a moment Salvius vascillated, his soldier's pragmatism warring against more basic instinct.

"Mars' teeth!" he hissed savagely, before wheeling his horse round. He might not like children, but he couldn't just leave one to die. As he kicked his mare out of the concealing depression near the road, a third electrocuted horse crumpled and rolled over, crushing its already dead rider. Salvius swore aloud, powerless to stop the killing. The two surviving Namorians saw him and turned towards him, instinctively rallying towards his blue centurion's crest.

"Keep going, follow them!" Salvius roared at the men as he passed, pointing behind him at Nesara and her guards. Salvius broke right to avoid the thickest concentration of the Vikings, just as a flicker of black alerted him to the first arrow arcing down from the hill behind him. Glancing behind he saw Koronus laying down cover fire, and as he turned back he saw a Viking fall as another arrow whickered from the forest, presumably Numiera's.

The Vikings noticed the missiles almost as quickly. Salvius saw shields come up and heard one of the barbarians roar something that presumably meant "Arrows!" to the men around him. The female mage, who had been raising her focal sword towards the last two praetorians, had her aim spoiled as she was unceremoniously scooped up by the hammer-wielding giant and pulled behind the cover of his studded shield. The other barbarians checked in their charge and instinctively began to cluster together, shields raised. Salvius knew it wouldn't take them long to realise how few archers were actually firing at them, but it left his path clearer for a few vital seconds and he kicked his mare round the edge of the Viking formation, where only one lone barbarian stood in his way. Salvius charged right for him, with the intention of running the man over with sheer momentum. The Viking stood his ground as the centurion thundered towards him, but he wasn't just brave but also clever - he stepped aside at the last minute, holding his shield above his head and stabbing at the centurion's leg. Salvius cursed, jinking his mare left to keep the Viking on his right side and raking his gladius in a low arc to intercept the blow. The short sword was not an ideal weapon to use from horseback, but it was sufficient to sweep the barbarian's own sword blade away from his knee.

"Fucking norseman!" Salvius spat at the man as he drove clear, still under the impression that the Vikings were raiders from the Southern wastes. He wasn't interested in killing the barbarians, however, only getting through them before their mage started shooting again. Urging his horse forward at full gallop, he reached the treeline a few seconds later. Behind him Nesara's guards and the surviving praetorians had wheeled around, possibly preparing a diversionary charge into the Viking ranks. Looking up, he spied Numiera still loosing arrows from her tree. He pulled his horse to a sharp halt, her hooves kicking up leaves and dirt as she skidded.

"Stop fucking around and get on!" he yelled at Numiera.

La Volpe
11-21-2012, 05:50 PM
Kuronus continued his volleys from the hill, speeding up as he saw his centurion friend charging to get Numeria out of the tree she'd scrambled up. He was almost out of arrows though... Cursing under his breath, Kuronus began to pick his shots more closely, aiming through the gaps in there shield bubble. Though in the heat of battle, Kuronus's heart beat at a slow, calm pace. He was in his element, other then the fact of a damn mage! One arrow left... his mind grumbled, this was bad. If he didn't keep the enemy pinned down, they'd be free to counter attack. Drawing his bow back for one last shot, Kuronus waited for the mage to pop out, even for a second, then he would use his last shot. Hurry Salvius... while you still can.

The Bartender
11-25-2012, 07:22 PM
"Stop fucking around and get on!" he yelled at Numiera.
Numier came back to her senses as she heard the voice of Salvius and she shoocked her head. Her pupils of her eyes had widened and her eyes were almost totally black and she pulled her hood down again. SHe jumped from the branch down on the saddle and grabbed Salvius around the waist as the centurion turned around and began to gallop toward others.

----

Ann was reaching out of the carrier. Her eyes were wide open as she looked over the swaplike, extremely beautiful Hercine with its huge trees and uncountable, small rivers and streams.
"Amazing, this planet is so... different, as if someone had patchworked different wordls together!" She wondered the amazing view, "I wish it wouldn't be such a bad timing to visit this planet, it would be such an amazing place to have a holiday." Ann sighed and returned into the carrier to finishe her new dress.

Epostle
11-27-2012, 08:54 PM
Gabriel

As Gabriel was beginning to wonder where they sword had went to, once again, he sprang up off the rock he was sitting on. “I sense power.” He said to himself as he noticed in the direction of which he came. “Magical energies of common barbarians maybe? No… it’s much too organized for a regular barbarian attack.” He rolled his shoulders in order to get limbered up before he decided to head back where he was once before. What boggled his mind, why would there be an attack as soon as he left? Why should he even consider going back there? It’s not like he had any connections with any of the beings there anyways. Then again, he did want to see if any of them had any real potential. Gabriel began to head back at a running pace. He had no intention to fight, but he did have intentions to watch what would go on.

Hate AKA Shacorai

“ That mutt!” Shacorai screamed out after a while later of being silenced. “Does he honestly think he can silence me like that?” He kept yelling into the darkness that was his imprisonment. “Marcius thinks that he can control me… and the mutt thinks that Marcius won’t use me again? Alright, then I’ll play this little game that they want to play. Marcius is my catalyst, my power… my puppet” Shacorai smiled as he began to take upon a purely sadistic laughter. “There is a reason why no mortal clings to the 7 Swords of Hell… especially when imbued with a Demon General.” Shacorai boasted to himself about his own power. “I will show Marcius how strong Hate can be… and how it can be used… There will be no one standing in my way when I’m done helping Marcius. Now… for the mutt” Shacorai began planning and laughing again. Throughout this conversation, Marcius cannot hear what Shacorai had to say because Shacorai can choose communication when he pleases.

As Shacorai began to open up communication between him and Marcius, he began to speak “What is your greatest fear mortal? Do you fear me… your masters… or something else? You do realize that mutt cannot possibly be of any use to you right? In the end, he will doom you and bear false words to make you safe and sound. You will find no such salvation… only… hate… if you refuse to trust me, then so be it. But when you will need me again… I will be waiting… and that mutt will taste blood before it is all said and done.” Shacorai’s words began to fade off, and slowly began to feed off of Marcius’ emotions at a very slow rate.

Death of Korzan
12-01-2012, 11:40 PM
Dun Moriga
The Mountain path zipped by as the questers fled from the Viking scout party on their horses. The royal guard were left behind, presumably killed, whilst more Warriors came out of the forest and chased the party. Every few moments a war-cry would be heard, bringing dread into the hearts of those on horseback, no matter how fast their horses moved they could not outrun the scouts for some reason. The air got colder and more pressing as they began to move further into Dun Moriga, the mountains seemed to begin to close in on them, their psychological effect due to their height crushing down upon the questing party, who weren't used to the gargantuan mounts of rock and dirt.

However, there was something else, something dark, something evil. Something hungry. It was in the air, it's foul breath festering and staining the oxygen with it's filthy musk. A torrent of a metallic, earthy smell hit the party, and soon the screams began. A flash of grey in the air, followed by a blast of cold air, and then the screams of one of the Vikings. Something was moving, something was moving very fast...The Vikings weren't seen after they were taken, and after their group was whittled down to nothing, the questing party were all that remained in that area of the mountains, everything else dead or scared away. The sun had nearly gone down and sunset was on the horizon, the moon was ready to loom over the world once more. The questers were alone.

The problem was, there was still a hunger.

Emor
The Emperor sat back in his chair. He pondered for a moment, his brow creasing, it was 5 minutes before he sat up and stared hard at Lycinia. “The Guild shall be left as it is. We do not have a legion to spare, we have already got forces spread thinly and they're being wiped out in almost every damn foothold we have. It doesn't help that Governor Boar-Skull has been sla-.” Galen stopped himself, that was private knowledge he had been given from a courier, the public were not to know that one of the most respected men in the empire had been slain, along with all Namorian presence in Combrogia. With Combrogia lost, Hercine falling, the Mages guild being overrun and Dun Moriga silent, things were not looking good.

“They wanted to work as a single force instead of being part of the empire, they can have their wish, we will continue our advance upon the shores of the Southern Wastes, Imperator Populusque Emorus.” The Emperor looked down at Lycinia. “If the reports your scout has told me, it would appear there are capable hands at work anyway.

The Mages Guild
“Well, he got away in a bit of a hurry didn't he. Am I that scary?” The Demon Lord looked hurt for a second, his gaze not moving from The Assassin's. “How's your mother. Sent you to come banish me from this realm?” The Assassin nodded, picking his movements carefully, taking care to not lock his eyes on Hothian for too long else he be drawn into the regions of insanity. “Well...I guess that's going to be quite difficult for us to agree on.” The Demon Lord whipped forward, his cloak fluttering behind him as he moved towards The Assassin and blinding pace. He struck and it was only just blocked, the sound of metal clanging could be heard all over the tower.

A horizontal strike came straight after the first, attempting to sweep The Assassin off of his feet. Hothian stood, yawning in boredom, his arms making whirlwind fast motions to block the rather sluggish movements of his chain-scythes. The sounds of footsteps running past the door could be heard, and a cold presence seemed to nip at his back, The Assassin dismissed it as the presence of Hothian.

After Chaaru introduced himself to the scared man, the man made no attempt to acknowledge Chaaru. In an instant, the man went around a corner and was not heard from again. The only thing left was a chilled wind coming through the halls and leading somewhere. “Oh well, can’t befriend them all I guess.” He said as he continued to walk through this huge structure. He could see some fire upon the walls as he walked down through the structure as well as blood upon the floor and walls. “Hmmm, do I sense demons?” He questioned himself as he put his hand along the wall, allowing the talon-like gauntlets screech amongst the stone, leaving claw marks amongst the walls. “What do you think Gluttony?”

The sword began to talk in a child girls voice. It giggled and laughed as it continued its conversation with Chaaru, “It smells like demons, uses magical properties of demons. Maybe we’re lucky and there are demons here. Also… I’m getting hungry… and I wanna eat soon.” It said to Chaaru in an angered tone. “Haha, getting grumpy aren’t we? Listen, I’ll find you some food and you just keep calm for the moment. I know we’ll find something in here, it reeks.” He said as he began to hear a couple of people fighting from a distance. “Where is that coming from?” He wondered as he finally took his hand from the wall and majestically moved his fingers in entertainment. A few minutes later, he came across 2 men, one wore a mask while the other didn’t feel right. He decided to keep his distance as he watched them for a moment. He then rested his sword upon his shoulders as he then said with a wicked smile “So… why are a couple of bitches like you playing patty cake for?”

Hothian looked directly at Chaaru, whilst still deflecting all of The Assassin's hits. The man was a curious specimen, not of Eternum.

As he watched the 2 men fight, one kicked the other out of the way and looked right at Chaaru with a grin. As Chaaru saw this, Chaaru noticed something strange about the man in front of him.

“What's your name mate, where're you from?” Hothian looked back to The Assassin, before sending a quick boot to his gut which sent the man tumbling out of the gap that the Namorian Scout had exited from earlier. Hothian held open his arms, brushing his long brown locks of hair out of his pale, almost handsome face. A delirious grin marked his face, his eyes hiding the full force of madness. He stared into Chaaru's eyes, reading his history and invading his mind.

“Sorry, but I’m keeping that to myself.” He said with his grin still persistent. As he walked into the room, he took a gander, looking all around to see his surroundings. “So, what the hell are you doing here? Don’t little kids need to be in bed by this time? This looks like something for grown-ups to handle, not a mask wearing ass-hat.” Chaaru was insulting the man to see what he could get out of him information wise. It was also Chaaru’s way of getting along with people. “Who’s that man Chaaru? I don’t understand why he’s here, but he seems a little dangerous to me.”

Hothian stared at Chaaru with amusement on his face, he had gleamed everything from his mind, and he knew the Dark Elf would be no threat to him. “Chaaru, what's with the insults, we're all friends here?!” Hothian's grin spread impossibly wide and to the sides cracks appeared at his face, the sound of glass and wood splintering accompanied the creation of the fissures that now streaked his cheeks. Hothian's red eyes continued glaring at Chaaru, but this time they were full of lust and hunger.

“All friends here, eh? Then why are you going all joker face on me and shit?” He said with a peculiar grin. He could feel some real power out of this odd man in front of him. As he saw the odd transformation in front of him, he only began to smile wider. Instead of instilling fear into Chaaru, he was interested in seeing what this guy had to offer. “I suggest you turn around while you have a chance. As you can tell, I haven’t come for you, but if you want your teeth knocked back into your throat, then by all means, come at me. I’ll give you first strike.” Chaaru said with complete confidence as he stood tall.

Hothian looked at Chaaru for a second, before bursting out laughing. A tear fell from his eye and splattered on the ground. “Ah...Mortals, you do make me laugh. Come then, Chaaru, face me. I am Hothian, Lord of Madness.” Hothian raised a finger and smiled wider, his face now threatening to shatter into a million shards, more cracks appeared everywhere but some repaired themselves. Hothian looked at the finger on his chest and then slowly moved it towards Chaaru's chest. When the finger connected, all was silent, it was as if both of the combatants had become deaf, or the world had stopped spinning.

Suddenly and shockingly, the walls themselves seemed to pulse with pure energy, the wall that sat behind the two fighters exploded and shot itself outward, scattering rubble all over the shrouded peninsula of the Tower. At a further distance away, out of the force field, a rather tired and badly hurt man, The Assassin slowly hobbled away. A voice in his head spoke 'Very good son...very good.'

Chaaru shot back as if hit by a freight train, whilst Hothian was not sure how far he would have launched him back, Chaaru smashed through wall upon wall until he was far out of site. Hothian smirked at this and begin to slowly saunter towards the Dark Elf.

Chaaru was shot back quite a ways. He literately went through around 5 parts of the broken wall before he landed on the ground, tumbling backwards until he hit the last part of a wall. “CHAARU!!! ARE YOU OK?” Gluttony shouted at Chaaru as he then regained his composure. “Gluttony, you know better than that. If you think something as weak as that would stop me… then you don’t know what’s about to come.” He said as he wiped off some of the rocks and dust that accumulated upon his armour. “Hahaha!!! That was a pretty decent hit for a bitch like you!!! “ He said taunting Hothian. “Now then, now that we’re done playing patty-cake, let me show you what a real strike is like!” He said as he began to charge at Hothian with quite a bit of force, dragging his sword through the snow and remnant of what was once a building. Clenching the blade, Chaaru came in with a sideways slash coming inwards.

Hothian bent impossibly far backwards and the blade glanced slowly off of him, as if the madness of the situation was now being bent under control by Hothian. The chaos fuelled him. “When will you mortals ever learn that you can't kill us, you can only rely on death, and even that comes slowly, and sickeningly.” Hothian managed to slip his leg around Chaaru's, tripping him. Whilst Chaaru was in mid air, Hothian made an extremely powerful connection from his elbow with the chest of the Dark Elf, blasting him from the 2nd floor 4 floors down into the Deep Chambers, the old basement that was built over, where the portal that released the Demon Lord into Eternum stood.

As Chaaru was tripped up and knocked down through a few floors, Chaaru landed on his feet this time.

Hothian, now alone in the cold decimated room snorted with laughter, he hopped up in the air and fell, his body completely vertical. When he felt he was about to hit the floor of the Deep Chambers, he spread his legs and extended a hand in order to land on those 'to look cool'. When he landed, he noted the still breathing figure of Chaaru in front of him. “Still alive are we?”

“Alright, I can tell you this much demon lord. You think I’m going to die to you?” Chaaru began to laugh maniacally as he used a grabbing technique by extending his hand, which forced a negative energy from where he was rapidly and through the smoke that wrapped around Hothian’s leg. It then brought him down through the same floors that Chaaru had went through and smashed him into the ground face first. While he was down and still gripped, Chaaru ringed him around like a lasso, making Hothian eat the walls face first for 3 revolutions before being violently thrown down. Chaaru then stood over Hothian’s body as he stared Hothian in the eyes with a every increasing sadistic smile and energy resonated out of him in a violent manner, which gave off a purple colour. “So… you don’t think I can kill you eh? Is this true?” He said as he used his left hand to grab Hothian’s face and pushed it further into the ground. “Then let’s see as Gluttony tears through your ugly, rotten, stinking face!” He said as the sword went down in a blinding speed straight for Hothian’s face.

Hothian grinned at Chaaru as the blade fell at blinding pace. “Okay! This'll be fun!” The sword, Gluttony fell into Hothian's face; various cracks patterned themselves across the glass-like features of the Demon Lord. A shattering was heard and the sword broke through Hothian's face and into his head. The sound of shattering glass continued, as did Hothian's sickening smile; it never left his face.

The sword seemed to interest Hothian now more than anything, he could feel a life force inside, hungry and waiting for a meal. Hothian instead fed himself, gorging on the chaos and sanity that the blade held, sowing the seeds of betrayal and various mental conditions inside whatever conscience was held in the demonic blade. He became stronger, and more deadly.

Hothian's hands flew up and gripped Chaaru's arms. The pain must've been extreme. “More. I must have more.” Hothian's voice had become darker and deeper in pitch, it had become evil. Using his new-found strength, Hothian pulled the blade further into his maw, until his entire face shattered.

His head was a hollow black space inhabited by what looked like a multicoloured black hole. As words flowed out of it's exit, the room hummed and vibrated with the power of madness.

“Look upon my power and dwindle in fear.” The energy, life and sanity was now being sucked out of both Chaaru and Gluttony. “You will serve Kronos. Find the one named Marcius, destroy him. And you will have your precious companion returned to you.” As these words resonated from the body of Hothian, Gluttony slowly sank into his head, disappearing into his body and transported to Tartarus. Hothian placed his hand against Chaaru and held it there. A black symbol that looked like a hand, only with various cracks in it etched itself onto Chaaru's skin, before blasting him back. When he awoke, Hothian had disappeared back to his realm, the portal had closed, and Gluttony was gone.

“What in the hell…” He said as he regained his consciousness. As he lifted up, he saw the wind gusting and whirling the snow that was in the air in the middle of the night. As he lifted himself up, he shook his head since he was rocked a little. “That little bastard put up a fight. You think so to Gluttony?” He said but didn’t get a response. He turned his head, looking at every spot possible, but he then remembered what the Demon Lord said. “Demon Lords are powerful indeed. Now he has my damned blade… he’s going to pay.” He said as he stood up from the snow covered ground, looking at the shattered remains of the building that was once apparently for mages that dwelled too deep into magic’s they weren’t supposed to.

He then looked down at his chest and saw a terrible wound. “Damn, that was a pretty good shot… but…” He then generated power and brought upon thread like appendages from his chest that began wrapping themselves around the wound until it disappeared. “So, Marcius… what is so important about this Marcius?” He said as he began walking into the middle of what seemed like nowhere. “Damnit all, he could have at least gave me some directions to his whereabouts.” He then noticed some snow prints in the ground of where that other assassin had ran away. “Maybe he might know if I can find him.” They were faint, but they were going to lead him right to a destination where he could at least get clues.
A low voice hummed inside Chaaru's voice, and a searing feeling emerged on his chest as the mark reappeared. “You may hide my mark Chaaru, but you may not rid yourself of it. Every time you try, I shall bring you to the edge of death, I will make you my obedient pet. Find Marcius and bring me his head. I shall be waiting.”

En Route to Hercine
The Fires in the passing towns quickly became more and more violent, some villages had become just broken shells. Something had ransacked this place, various Namorian troops lay on the ground, but instead of sword marks, these were claws, deep, large and jagged claws that had scarred the soldiers with their pattern, tattooing their mark into ouch dead man. The smell in the air was that of sulphur, fire, and Beast. There was a roar from above, and what looked like a bird in the distance circled around the legion. Although too high to see, it's hungry, amber eyes awaited the taste of mortal meat in it's gullet, and the fire in it's throat would not die until it had feasted on the legion, or died trying.

It began it's unholy descent, it's massive wingspan forcing outwards, showing off the true terrifying beauty that the creature bestowed.

'Bloody Demon's and their pawns.' Silverwick spoke to Marcius.

Soon after this though, a call from various soldiers was heard, a terrifying call that would take the heart of any man.

“Dragon!” Panic broke out. But the creature continued descending, until it was close enough to see it's regal purple scales and the razor sharp teeth that would put a great white shark to shame.

'I'd get into cover if I were you.' Silverwick mumbled sarcastically, the Horse sized wolf howling and shaking it's mane in agitation.

Somewhere near Combrogia
As the last Namorian sentry fell, Septum's blade slid out of his still warm body, and the shackles clicked off the last Roman prisoner, Septum felt pride once more. It was a clever plan from a very well trained Namorian commander that had ended their attack, Septum suspected that he had acquired some supernatural assistance as well. 'He will make a fine Roman when we burn his pretender empire to the ground.'

Septum turned to his men, recently re-armoured from destroying and pillaging a large Namorian Fort. The Fort had a large amount of armour to spare and although it was sapphire blue (Much to Septum's distaste, although it reminded him of the sea) it would do for now. The armour matched the Roman's equipment in every way. Even the way it bound together mirrored their superior sets.

“We may have lost our eagle men. But we will not lose this war! For Rome! Senatus Populusque Romanus!” The troops yelled back.

“Senatus Populusque Romanus!”

Hercinia
The City stood in flames. Heracles and Hercules bombarded the city with lightning, both being brothers in the Godly family tree. Whilst they attacked the city, legions of Greek warriors fought off wave upon wave of Namorian, Crocolyke and Hercinian attacker. Men died but came back to life to fight again and again, and soon the defending forces could see that they were losing. A powerful presence that was signaled by an unexpected cold wind; a lone warrior walked from the dust that had been created since the felling of the city walls. Hercules and Heracles stopped their barrage and ran into the fray, the Demi-god brothers hacking apart their enemies with no remorse.

Achilles had arrived. A huge 9ft tall Crocolyke ran at him, War-hammer poised to crush his skull into two. Achilles side stepped the blow and chopped at his tendon's, felling the beast before crushing it's skull. A young Namorian stood in front of him, trembling in fear. Achilles performed a backflip over the boy, who promptly fainted. Wave upon wave of enemy came at Achilles, but they all fell like the rest. The Second most powerful warrior of all time had joined the battle, and none would leave unscathed by his wrath. By early evening, the city of Hercinia was Greek.

Azazeal849
12-04-2012, 11:50 AM
EMOR, SEVERAL DAYS AGO

Looking at the emperor's face, Lycinia knew that he wasn't about to change his mind. She carefully kept her worries hidden behind her mild expression as she bowed to Galen Claudius.

"Imperator populusque Emorus." she repeated.

"Forgive me, domina." Ovidius said once they had all excused themselves from the emperor's palace, "I thought you said he wanted to curb the Guild's independence?"

"He does." Lycinia answered, biting her lip. "That's why he's leaving it to burn."

"Not sending troops and declaring martial law?"

"Things are obviously much worse in the provinces than he's been letting us know. Did you hear what he said about Combrogia and governor Boar Skull? He could be looking at a threat right on our southern border and he needs to defend the city. Even so I doubt he'll be able to keep this quiet for long..."

"If things are so bad," Ovidius suggested as he limped along, "Why not recall the invasion? That's half our army marching off into the South."

"Several reasons. Korzan's death won't destabilise the South forever, and even if the Earthborn could win the war on their own they won't do so just to oblige us. On the flipside, the emperor doesn't want our so-called allies to take all the glory, and he doesn't want to appear weak in front of them. For the same reason, he doesn't want to publicly admit that we're losing control of the empire by calling back more defensive troops." Lycinia shook her head, smiling sadly. "Politics, good Ovidius, it's all politics."

Lycinia hoped that her husband would be able to use the 18th legion to turn the tide, as he had so confidently asserted. He had only been gone a day, but already she missed him and feared for him.

Ovidius grimaced. "I'm glad that it's your field rather than mine, domina. Makes cloak-and-dagger work seem simple."

"What do you think all your work's in aid of?" Lycinia countered, her smile becoming a little warmer.

Ovidius chuckled, which after a moment caused him to wince and clutch at his bandaged ribs. "I don't ask such questions, domina. I just do what I'm asked."

"That's one of the reasons you're so valuable." Lycinia paused, letting the morning rush of citizens and traders flow around them as she stopped and hugged her arms. After thinking for a moment, she added: "And I think it's time to cross politics and subterfuge over again. Don't worry though, I wouldn't think of sending you back into a demon-infested tower on your own. I'll be doing this one myself."

"Oh?" Ovidius said, fighting hard to disguise his shock.

"We need a mage," Lycinia mused half to herself, twisting a bracelet absent-mindedly as she thought, "A few men, and a day or two for the rumour mill to run its course."

And, she added privately, to pray that the wards around the Guild hold for that long.

She realised that Ovidius was still looking at her, and hitched up her smile. "First though, I need to see to the kids. You're free to go your own way for now, master Ovidius. Or you can join us for breakfast - we still need to discuss your payment for last night's work."

"You're too kind, domina." Ovidius replied politely, his thoughts turning to whether Afragia would be around or out on errands.


* * * * * *

THE FORD OVER THE RIVER MINERVA, NOW

"Mars' teeth." the Namorian scout cursed as he realised exactly what he was seeing. The newly turned earth on the south side of the river Minerva had been tossed up and thrown aside, and the mass grave was empty. What's more, the flood plain to the north where the first Roman legion had been bloodily defeated was trampled and scarred by the unmistakable passage of an army, marching away northwards into the hills. Not merely content with escape, the Romans had desecrated the Namorian graves on the north bank, ripping out the wooden crosses to leave the dead soldiers annonymous and their deeds unremembered.

"They're heading north." the scout said, swallowing hard and reining in his anger to try and think clearly. "They could find any number of places to hide in the forests."

"Well, we did take all their weapons and armour." one of his companions pointed out, calming his horse as it pawed restlessly at the ground. "They'll be looking for replacements."

"Easiest thing in the world to ambush a wagon train." the first scout said darkly. "Alright, you two turn back and tell the legatus just how big a problem we've got. You two, ride hard for Emor and warn them. Make sure the Emperor and his half-arse senators know exactly what they're dealing with. Quintus and I will try and track down the Romans and then follow you, give them an idea of their location. Let's move you bastards, we emphatically do not have all day!"


* * * * * *

HERCINE, NOW

"These men were from the Rapax legion." Marcius said grimly, pointing out the numeral 7 and tiger's claw insignia on one of the broken shields.

"Things can't have gone well for them if they didn't have time to bury the dead." Varinius growled from the commander's left. "I think we're heading into another shit-storm."

"Look at the marks though." Cassius pointed out, "Those aren't sword cuts. What killed them?"

"Bloody demons and their pawns." Silverwick spoke to Marcius. The huge, tusked wolf loped easily alongside the legatus and his staff, by now accepted as a powerful - if frightening - messenger of the gods.

"What is your greatest fear mortal?" said another voice in Marcius' head, harsher than Silverwick's. He knew exactly who it was, and had been expecting it for some time. The sword Hate had been silent since the meeting with the Huntsman, but Marcius had known it was only a matter of time before it spoke up again. It was twitching in its scabbard, pulsing in time to the commander's accelerated heartbeat. "Do you fear me? Your masters? Or something else? You do realise that mutt cannot possibly be of any use to you, right? In the end, he will doom you even while bearing false words to make you feel safe and sound. You will find no such salvation...only...hate. If you refuse to trust me, then so be it. But when you need me again...I will be waiting...and that mutt will taste blood before all is said and done."

"Shut up." Marcius hissed under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear. In spite of its power, and the fact that Mars himself had given it to him, he loathed the sword. He would have unbuckled the weapon and thrown it aside were it not for the fact that to do so would be a deadly insult to his patron god - and that it would leave whichever soldier he tasked with carrying it open to the demon's relentless manipulation. He had to be strong, and carry the burden himself. Mars obviously thought him capable - didn't he?

Hate merely chuckled to itself and began to feed off Marcius' emotions at a very slow rate. The hatred that Marcius was directing towards the demon itself was just as good as if he had turned it on the Greeks, the Romans, or even Silverwick as the demon had itself suggested. No matter what he did, whether he listened to it or not, Marcius was feeding the demon. No matter what, Hate would win. It was only a matter of time.

Soon after this though, a call from various soldiers was heard, a terrifying call that would take the heart from any man.

"Dragon!"

Panic broke out, but the creature continued descending, until it was close enough to see its regal purple scales and the razor-sharp teeth that would put a great white shark to shame.

"I'd get into cover if I were you." Silverwick mumbled sarcastically, the horse-sized wolf howling and shaking its mane in agitation.

"Shields!" Varinius bellowed on Marcius' left, cutting through the panic with a direct order. "Shields, you bastards!"

The call, immediately taken up by centurions along the line, may have snapped the legionaries back into instinctive obedience, but it did precious little to defend against the dragon's attack. The creature swooped low over the long, vulnerable march column, raking its hind talons forward like a bird of prey and driving two bloody furrows through the centre of the legion's formation. It opened its jaws and a blast of fire swept over the rearmost cohort as it wheeled away. Men reeled, screaming, plywood shields scorched to matchwood and trying desperately to shake off armour that was burning from the inside out as the leather lining and straps caught fire.

"Defensive formation!" Marcius shouted as men at the rear of the column ducked for cover among the wagons. The dragon snapped at a pack mule as it passed and the animal was carried screaming into the air. Horses reared and whinnied in panic as the dragon banked in a lazy circle, fanning its leathery wings before looping round for a second pass. A few men tried hurling javelins at the beast, but they either missed the speeding dragon or were swept aside by the hurricane of its wings. Marcius even saw one pilum, thrown in panic from the centre of a formation, miss its target and arc inexorably down to strike one of the thrower's own comrades in the neck. The legionary went down with a gasp, vomiting blood over the men around him. The dragon stormed on, its talons catching one of the legion's cannons and ripping the steel tube off its wheels, crushing two of the Dun Morigan gunners. The horse teams dragging the nearest other guns bolted, running down any legionaries that got in their way.

A reek of sulphur reached Marcius as the dragon swooped low over the legatus and his officers, blotting out the sky and staggering them sideways with the pressure of its downwash. Silverwick, crouching down to brace itself, was the only one unaffected by the sudden air blast - even as the tribunes reeled or were pitched from their saddles by panicking steeds, the giant wolf leapt upwards, a full six metres into the air, and latched on to one of the dragon's spread wings. The leathery pinion ripped and tore under the wolf's weight as Silverwick dug in its claws, and a hissing roar escaped the dragon's jaws as it was pulled sideways and down. The giant beast hit the ground at speed and was sent tumbling over by its own momentum, bones snapping from the impact. Silverwick was still latched grimly onto its tattered wing, closing its jaws around the limb as the dragon screeched and sent another blast of fire into the air.

Marcius, still simmering from the feedback loop of anger that he had unwittingly allowed Hate to instigate, wrenched his horse around and spurred straight towards the crash-landed dragon. The tribunes who hadn't been thrown from their saddles shouted at him to stop, but only his bodyguard Calvus was in enough control of his mount to spur after him.

"Use me!" Hate hissed inside Marcius' head. As much as the demon wanted to see Silverwick killed by the dragon, it also wanted its weilder to unleash its power. "I will destroy it!"

"Fuck you!" Marcius snarled back, and drew his Namorian blade. It flashed red in the dragon-cast firelight as he hurtled forward. His horse suddenly whinnied in fright, shying away from the sulphurous reek beaten towards them by the dragon's thrashing wings. As it twisted aside Marcius leapt from the saddle, dodging beneath one of the crippled wings and using his momentum to drive his sword deep into the dragon's purple-scaled flank. Using the hilt as a handhold he sawed the blade free and climbed higher, finding himself scrabbling for purchase on the dragon's serpentine neck. The dragon let out an ear-splitting roar and rolled over in an attempt to shake him off, but was hampered by Silverwick leaping down to sink his teeth into its throat.

"Go for the head!" Marcius heard the dire wolf snarl. He reacted by driving his sword down again to climb higher, this time hitting something that sheeted black liquid down the front of his armour. The dragon's saurian head, which until that moment had been whipping sharply back and forth, went in to an arching spasm that allowed Marcius to grab the back of its pointed skull with his free hand and ram his sword down for a third and final time.

Voluntarily or not, the dragon's jaws gaped wide and spewed forth a final jet of fire. It incinerated the grass in front of it and brought a half-ruined building crashing down with a thunderous boom. Only this time the dragon's own head and neck seemed to catch fire too, a secondary geyser of flame spurting from the wound that Marcius had carved in the back of its neck. The creature convulsed and died with a long, spasming shudder, then collapsed with a ground-shaking thump and began to burn. Silverwick leapt clear just in time while Marcius, the liquid coating his armour ignited by the blast, was thrown clear and sent rolling across the grass. He yelped in shock and pain, tearing at the lightning-bolt clasp of his cloak and trying to use the garment to smother the flames before they caught. He finished up face down in the scorched grass, the immediate heat of the fire replaced by a searing, throbbing pain across his neck and chest.

In spite of the pain, Marcius found that his mind was clear. Shacorai's insidious whispers were gone, for the moment. Had he beaten it, or had it withdrawn of its own accord? He realised that, right now, he didn't care. Slowly, forcing his injured body to move out of pride, he managed to raise himself onto one knee. Smoke curled from the black tar that was congealing on the front of his banded armour. It smelled awful, and the burning corpse of the dragon behind him smelled even worse. Turning away from the twitching, spark-spitting carcass, he found himself facing Calvus who had run forward to support his injured commander. He was staring at Marcius in stunned silence as he put out his hands to hold the legatus upright. Silverwick, after rubbing its muzzle on the ground to try and scrape off the foul-smelling dragon blood, cantered after the legate with something like a grin on its lupine face as it regarded Calvus. Calvus exhaled slowly.

"I think I might be out of a job, sir." the stoic young bodyguard said, as he looped Marcius' arm over his own shoulder to allow the legatus to stand. Ahead of them, Marcius saw, the rest of the 18th legion was also slowly staggering to its feet and regrouping. Cassius was spurring his horse towards them, calling at the men behind to bring a stretcher.

"Imperator populusque Emorus, Calvus." Marcius replied tiredly, his teeth gritted in pain.

The legatus was spent, his anger ebbing away as he took satisfaction from slaying the dragon without the help of Hate. The sword, however, was practically trembling from the emotion Marcius had allowed it to absorb. Marcius thought he had won, but the demon Shacorai knew better.


* * * * * *

DUN MORIGA, NOW

As soon as they were out of immediate danger, Salvius had intended to drag Numiera out of the saddle and slap her across the face, hard. Five men were dead because she had broken away from the group. Seeing Salvius ride back to save her, princess Nesara's guards had wheeled and counter-charged the barbarians, and one of the surviving praetorians had joined them - a brave sense of duty ovverriding Salvius' order for them to flee. They had crashed into the Vikings' shield wall with some force, three of them successfully breaking the line and riding through to the other side, but ultimately charging against formed ranks with so few men was a decision that asked for trouble, and got it.

Salvius had seen one barbarian footsoldier arrest a royal guard's charge by swinging his sword into the horse's mouth, and then leaping up to drag the man from his saddle as he attempted to change his attack and strike down awkwardly across his body. Another horse had shied away from the line of spiked shields only to trip and fall; skidding forward it had knocked down two of the Vikings, but had also sent its rider sprawling to be quickly butchered by the others. The Vikings about-faced to meet the three surviving horsemen, who had wheeled around and prepared a second charge to break back through to freedom. This time however the armoured giant leading the Vikings whirled his hammer above his head, unleashing some sort of bound magic that manifested as a howling wind that blew into the faces of the horsemen and stopped their charge dead. Salvius hadn't seen what had happened next as he galloped towards Nesara, Koronus and the one surviving praetorian. From experience, he didn't rate his comrades' chances as good.

As Nesara hauled Koronus up into her saddle and the four survivors spurred away, Salvius had been barely able to contain his anger. If Numiera had stayed with them and mounted up as she had been told, rather than making a suicidal run back towards the forest and the Vikings, then the five deaths might have been avoided. That was what he had meant when he had said it would have been safer for both her and them if they had gone their separate ways.

Their flight into the mountains, however, had driven the angry thoughts from his mind as they were once again faced with the raw problem of simple survival. Whatever had driven off their Viking pursuers was still out there in the crags - he could feel it.

"What news is there from home, by the way?" Salvius asked quietly, the question directed at the sole surviving praetorian. He didn't turn to the man as he spoke - he was still scanning the rocky outcrops which loomed like crooked battlements on either side of their narrow road. He frowned up at them, his hand curled around his sword hilt.

"We left the day after you did." replied the praetorian, who was a dour, stubble-shadowed man by the name of Altius. "Something weird did happen that morning though - two patrician women came to see the emperor with a story about demons in the Mages' Guild."

"Demons in Namor?" Salvius shot back, the gravity of the news enough to make him glance in the other soldier's direction before resuming his search for enemies hidden in the rocks. "What did Mighty Galen say to that?"

Altius frowned at the irreverent use of the emperor's first name. "Not a lot. He was more worried about securing the city than sending part of the garrison to investigate. He thinks an attack on the city itself is imminent."

Both men superstitiously touched the iron hilts of their swords against the ill luck of the words. The heart of the Namorian Imperium had not come under direct threat since before living memory.

"What happened in Combrogia?" Salvius asked, changing tack. He had hoped for more chosen men to accompany him on the quest for the Stones, but bad decisions or bad luck had whittled his reinforcements down to the single grim praetorian who now rode alongside him.

Altius grimaced. "The emperor sent 15 of us to meet up with you on the road to Dun Moriga. The Combrogian forest was crawling with those barbarians."

"Norsemen?" Salvius asked, his inflection making the name sound like*a curse.

"I don't know what the hell they were. They don't speak any language I've ever heard. After Boar Skull lost the forests the 9th legion launched a counterattack but got ambushed and decimated. What's left of them are falling back towards Emor. No idea where praetor Maximus and the southern expedition are, or if they managed to turn the tide. We were too busy running from that bastard with the hammer and his thunderhead sister."

"If things are really going that badly," growled Salvius, "Our wise and mighty emperor should bloody well recall Maximus before he marches too far south. No good sending half our military to fight Norsemen when there's barbarians and demons and gods know what else running around in our own back garden!"

The centurion shook his head and urged his piebald mare into a slightly faster trot so that she pulled alongside Nesara.

"Sorry this is getting to be a habit, domina." he said ruefully, "But it's more bad news. The emperor's keeping the three Emor legions put to defend the city - even if we could go back it doesn't look like you could convince him to send more men to Afragia. It looks like your best bet is still to talk to praetor Graccus in Dun Moriga."

If he's still alive. the centurion thought grimly, but didn't voice the thought aloud. First they would have to get there, and that would require vigilance and care. Normally, those were traits that Salvius had supreme confidence in his command of, but he was beginning to wonder if they would be sufficient this time.

Setsa
12-05-2012, 01:50 PM
To say that there was something on Nesara's mind was by far, and under statement. Her guards were all dead, reinforcements was not even close to being considered an option for her kingdom. It was clear something was going on that was running through the land like a plague of chaos and terror. The chill of Dun Moriga's high peaks challenged many times the intricately woven cloak of the Princess's; in the battle of internal temperatures. Even so, she took no pity on herself or allowed anyone else to do the same. A wolf's tanned pelt that she skinned herself linned the outside of the cloak with a thick hood. As a few strands of long black hair moved with the cold breeze that had been at their backs since late morning.

Walking along side her stallion who was carrying Koronus, hand resting on a rein as they followed the trail. She was glad to be able to stretch out her legs. Refusing to be treated like a royal they alternated from horse and ground. Only riding together when nessisary for added speed or the like that would be more benefical. When Salvius spoke to her in a somewhat apoligetic tone the darkly tanned woman only smiled softly.

"The stones you seek will aid us all greatly. It is as I told you the night before, my decision to join you all shall be steadfast until the very end. Once we get out of Dun Moriga and into Afragia, we will with Ra's grace. Be able to rest for a few precious days and gather enough provisions to see us through a good length. So even if we must go underground to speak with praetor Graccus, all us not lost. Nor ever will be Salvius."

Breathing slowly into her softly formed fist to send warmth back into her hand. The woman turned her head to look at what they have left behind. She hated the strange feeling and noises that they encountered the first time through. It seems the same thing, or worse, was still following them from a distance. Which was one of her concerns.... What was it and why hadn't it gained enough ground or attacked seemed somewhat puzzling. It was as if this creature was toying with them but why? Never the less she'd keep her wits about her, to lose one's own inner drive and strength. Would only show a weak point in the group. Nesara would much rather be the wolf hunting the herd right now....than the herd waiting for the wolf.

The Bartender
12-06-2012, 11:36 AM
Hercine

As the dragon attacked Ann jumped quickly out of the vagon but before she could do anything had the dragon rammed the whole legion and she just managed to jump out of its way and roll on the side as the dragon flew past.
"Why does such things happen always when I'm there?!?!" Ann shouted as she stood up and drew her katana but as she searched for the dragon she saw how it fell from the sky and was then slain by the Namorians.
"And for what was this ruckus? You can kill that without any problems so why are you jumping all around?!" She rambled and sheated her sword. Then she began to tend the wounded near her.

Dun Moriga

Numiera was sitting behind Salvius as the demonic rush subsided and she almost fell of the horseback as she realized where she was but then fastened her grip around the waist of the centurion. She felt horrible and turned her head into other direction as she vomited something black and sticky.
Numiera closed her eyes and tried to calm down but it was pretty hard when riding on a horse and fleeing from a troop of bloodthirsty norsemen.
The feeling of afraidness returned and mixed with the nausea she had and caused Numiera to shiver as she tightened her grip even more...

La Volpe
12-06-2012, 09:37 PM
Kuronus listened closely to Nesara and Salvius as they talked, he had not talked much since the flight from the Norsemen, rather using his high-tend senses to search for enemies in the mist. Without a word, Kuronus swung off the horse and pulled his cloak hood up. "It is your turn." Is all he said as he walked off to the edge of the group, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword. They had been caught off guard once, he refused to let it happen again. Sniffing the air, Kuronus tried to shake the feeling of being watched but as his eyes scanned around them, he began to feel even more uneasy. "Salvius, where exactly are we heading?" He called out, he was familiar with most of the region, but not here.

The Bartender
12-09-2012, 01:50 PM
Orbit of Eternum near the city of Emor

"We will land about 5 miles outside Emor and then move toward the city with the APC. Corporal Von Bayern will take the command in the second APC. Now, get ready for the landing." Shouted the captain of the 391th Space assault unit of the Earthern space navy and it was followed by rash footsteps of 15 troopers who began to move into the vechicles.
Isabella von Bayern entered the APC right before when a loud "BANG" was heard and the whole space ship shoke. Isabella shouted into her communicator;
"What the fuck was that? What did just happen?!" Her voice was worried and it grew as she heard the voice of the pilot;
"Cough, we were hit by a lightning bolt and it grilled our left motors. We stay still in air but it will get a bit rough. Prepare for an emergy landing...Griiichrk!" Another loud crush was heard and then the spacecraft began to fall faster and faster. They were still in height of about 6000 feets and they were sitting in a military machine with heavy weaponary, the landing wouldn't be soft.

---

Acompanied with loud rumbling fell the fireball from the sky near the city of Emor. The sky was pitch black, covered with clouds as if it were angry that there were others there.
As the falling spacecraft fell and hit the ground it slided across the ground and made a deep trail into the field it hit. Isabella who had been in the APC with her troop was uninjured but the vechicle was unusable so she and the surviving six troopers left it and looked around the destroyed hangar of the ship for useable vechicles but didn't find any and as they didn't have time to search longer left the burning ship and ran down up the hill toward the city. Five minutes after the impact did the first explosion occur, propably because the fuel tanks exploded and it was followed by a second burst as the reactors and ammunition flew into the air. The shockwave was so strong it blew the fleeing troop into the ground and it could be felt even in the city as a strong wind that crabbed the unlucky guards on the walls and pushed them down from the parapets. The shockwave was followed by another one, this time it went into the reversal direction as the air returned to the ship and it sucked some of the soldiers fleeing with Isabella with such strength that they flew right trought the air into the burning wreckage.

---

As they were about a mile away from the wreckage ordered Isabella a break to count the survivors and to contact the HQ in the orbit about what happened. There were only four survivors except some of the others had survived but nobody had contacted Isabella or anyone else during the last hour so they were propably dead;
"Space command, here is Corporal Isabella von bayern, can you hear me?" talked into her communicator, "Here is the Space Command, we can hear you, what did happen? Why did the ship fell?" Came from the earplug, "I don't know, the pilot said something like that we were hit by a lightning bolt but it shouldn't cause such damage, do you have any information about other troops surviving?" Isabella explained the situation, "No, we have only six markings on our monitors and that must be your troop. Get into Emor and wait there for further information and instructions but we won't be sending any more troops down as it is too dangerous. You are on your own for now, Space Command over." Then it was silent. Isabella looked to the others, mostly only new recruits who were transferred here due of the low danger level the Eternumians had, there were no experienced troopers here except the unit leaders so she would take the command and move forward with the mission she had received.
"Okey folks, we won't be receiving back-up any time soon so we must move forward into the city. If we move quickly, we will be there in few hours. Now move your asses so we can get out of this place." Isabella shouted to her unit, or what was left of it and they began to march toward Emor...

Azazeal849
12-10-2012, 09:00 PM
EMOR, THE PREVIOUS NIGHT

There weren't many Namorians walking the streets this late in the evening, but Ovidius had been one of them. He had been depositing his payment from his last mission in a safe place, and reflecting on how he was still seeking the true prize. It was an enjoyable chase, to be sure, but his pleasant chain of thought was interrupted by a shriek of rushing air followed by a thunderclap impact. The noise was physical; a long, rolling detonation that Aulus Ovidius felt like a hand pressing against his chest.

"What the hell was that?" someone near him shouted.

Behind them, curtains were pushed aside and faces appeared at windows, bleary-eyed and anxious. The people on the streets had stopped in their tracks and were now crowding towards the walls. Ovidius slipped through them and climbed one of the wooden scaffolds that led to the top of the city's stone walls. He picked his moment and was ignored by the guards, some of whom were trying to stop a number of civilians from doing the same thing, while the rest simply stared south with shocked expressions.

Ovidius gained the parapet and followed their gaze to see the orange glow fading away in the distance, topped by a pall of inky black smoke that was visible as a darker shade against the moonlit sky. Even with the aid of the nearly-full moon, it was too far away to see what had caused the explosion.

Ovidius turned as one of the guards belatedly noticed him, feigned a stammering apology and hurried back down to ground level. A thickset man with a galea helmet under his arm emerged from the nearest tavern as Ovidius retreated.

"Vorenus!" the thickset man barked at one of his counterparts up on the walls. "Why am I out here shouting when I should be in there drinking!"

"Something just exploded out in the forest, sir. Something big!"

The guard commander stomped up the wooden steps to the parapet and frowned southwards for a long moment before turning back to his subordinate.

"Vorenus, get your arse on a horse and make sure the garrison commanders know about this immediately!"

The man called Vorenus scrambled down from the wall and attempted to calm his horse, which had been frightened by the explosion and was rearing and pulling at its tether. By the time he had got it under control and mounted up, Ovidius was already gone. The garrison commanders were not the only people who would want to know about this.


* * * * * *

HERCINE, THE PREVIOUS NIGHT

The Fulminata had pitched their fort for the night, several miles further along the main road from the dragon carcass that they had left to burn after burying the ghost town's fallen soldiers and civilians. Morale among the troops was mixed - although they were winning victories, every day seemed to bring a fresh danger and more signs of devastation in the Imperium's economic heartland. The fires of war had swept relentlessly through Hercine and were clearly devouring everything in their path; omnivorously.

To raise the mens' spirits, legatus Marcius had insisted on inspecting the camp personally despite his injuries. His armour was gleaming once again after much cleaning and he walked with purpose, though to a perceptive watcher the pain in his chest was obvious from the way he bent slightly forward as he walked. A silk scarf served to both hide the blisters on his neck and protect them from being chafed by the collar of his armour. He was walking down the via principalis with his bodyguard Calvus on one side of him and the ever-present Silverwick loping along on the other when one of the cavalry groups he had sent on a forward patrol came clattering in through the principal gate of the fort. The leader recognised Marcius and made straight for him.

"Men coming this way, sir." the scout reported as he reined in his horse. "Maybe a few hundred of them."

"Ours?" Marcius asked hopefully.

"Yes sir." the scout confirmed, to his surprise. "But they're in bad shape."

Marcius cursed under his breath. "Calvus, find the praefectus and tell him to rouse a cohort to escort them in. Maybe they'll be able to tell us just what's been happening around here."


* * * * * *

DUN MORIGA, NOW

"So even if we must go underground to speak with praetor Graccus, all is not lost. Nor ever will be, Salvius."

In spite of himself, Salvius felt slightly bouyed by Nesara's words. He wasn't one for flowery optimism, but he could sense the quiet determination behind it, and Salvius respected that. Now they would have to see if the princess possessed the more important quality of being able to match deeds to words.

Koronus swung off the horse and pulled his cloak hood up.

"It is your turn." was all he said as he walked off to the edge of the group.

"Salvius, where exactly are we heading?" he called out. He was familiar with most of the region, but not here.

"We're not far from one of the trade routes that runs down into Ech'." Salvius replied. By 'Ech' he meant Ech Zilidar, the dwarven capital and largest of the Dun Morigans' underground cities. Doing some quick mental arithmetic, he added, "The tunnel's maybe another mile from here. Not far."

Salvius certainly hoped so. Once they reached the Dun Morigan city they could get supplies and news from the locals. And, the centurion thought uneasily, get under cover from whatever it was that - he was sure - was still watching them.


* * * * * *

EMOR, NOW

"No." Julia said flatly, shuffling a little closer to the shop front so that the awning covered her from the sun. It was early, but the temperature was climbing rapidly. "Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I'm stupid."

She was indeed young - just 16 and only a few months married, to the significantly older senior centurion of the 2nd Valoria legion, but in the lucky position of having her new husband dote on her. Such devotion, in turn, inspired loyalty from the young aristocrat.

"I don't want you manipulating my husband like this."

"I'm not trying to manipulate anyone." Lycinia said, not quite truthfully. She did, however, feel bad for asking this of her youngest friend. "I'm trying to protect the Imperium."

"You don't think the emperor can do that on his own?"

"The emperor has a lot to worry about, like how recalling our invasion force in fear of our own safety will look to the Earthborn and all the protectorates. Though perhaps what the protectorates think doesn't matter so much if things are really as bad as he says."

"What about Hercine?" Julia asked worriedly, pressing her fist against her lips. Her brother was a soldier in the 7th legion, currently stationed in the western province.

"I don't know. Decius is marching there once he breaks off from the rest of the army, so hopefully we'll have news soon. But in the meantime, we want to keep this city safe. We don't know everything about what happened the other night, and if there's trouble the emperor needs to know about it."

Julia sighed. "Alright. I'll talk to Quintus about loaning you an escort. But not so much for the emperor as so you don't get yourself killed."

"Thank you." Lycinia said, taking the girl's hands in hers. "Like I said, it's important that we get to the bottom of what happened the other night."

"Speaking of the other night." a voice said behind them, "There's something you should know."

Aulus Ovidius emerged from the crowd, weaved his way round a pair of citizens. Julia shot a quizzical look at Lycinia, who placated her.

"Apologies, domina." Ovidius said, "But last night something fell from the sky outside the city. I thought you'd rather hear it from a reliable source rather than through the grapevine."

"Something fell?" Lycinia asked, "Like a comet?"

"A sign from Mars?" Julia suggested hesitantly, fingering the religious charm that hung round her neck.

"That or the Earthborn." said Lycinia. "They're the only other ones who can move through the sky. Thank you, master Ovidius."

"Your servant, domina."


* * * * * *

Lycinia did not allow herself to be sidetracked, and resolved to inspect the Mages' Guild before turning to investigate the mysterious explosion. She rode in the hot mid-morning with Julia's promised escort - her husband's century in the elite 2nd legion. As news spread through Emor of the worsening situation in the provinces, corroborated by a steady trickle of refugees arriving daily from the south, it had become common for anyone with the means to travel with armed soldiers. The 80 men with Lycinia were a large force even by a dignitary's standards; more than enough to fight off enemy raiders or bandits taking advantage of the anarchy in the countryside, and, more to Lycinia's purpose, enough to purge the Guild if it was indeed still full of demons. Also with her towards that end was Seppia's husband Gaius Octavius, the former mage who had personal reasons to get involved after what had happened to his son.

Their assembled force was, however, seemingly unnecessary. They had arrived to find the Guild's magical wards still intact, which was something, but when Octavius conjured them a way through the tower inside was completely deserted. Although there were signs of fighting and an appalling number of bodies, there wasn't a single demon to be found and even the veteran legionaries were unsettled. They were no closer to solving the mystery when a long train of blue-cloaked men escorting a ragged column of prisoners marched into view along the southern highway. Seeing them first, Lycinia kicked her horse towards them.

"Ave Imperator!" she hailed the centurion leading the column.

"Ave indeed, my lady!" the centurion shouted back, walking away from the column to talk to her while the rest of the men continued to march without him. "Centurion Aurelius, 3rd century, 10th cohort, Fulminata legion. At your service."

He seemed to be in high spirits, as were the other Namorians. The prisoners by contrast were sullen and silent, apart from one man with a bruised jaw who Lycinia noted wore an incongruous smirk.

"What's happened?" Lycinia asked, hungry for news after finding out that the centurion was from her husband's legion.

"Victory, my lady! Legatus Marcius met four legions of the enemy at the river Minerva and utterly crushed them!"

Lycinia felt a surge of pride, and couldn't stop a wide grin from splitting her round face. "And these are the survivors?" she said, turning serious again as she regarded the trudging prisoners.

"They call themselves Romans, my lady. They speak our language and they dress like us, but evidently they don't fight as well as we do! The legatus is moving west with the rest of the legion to stabilise Hercine, but he thought the emperor might appreciate a token of our success to raise spirits at home.

"Tell me more." Lycinia said, jumping down from the saddle and sweeping her long, curly hair back out of her eyes. "Tell me everything."

Epostle
12-16-2012, 03:24 PM
Gabriel

Following their trail, Gabriel was quite a ways away. So instead of trying to run to catch up, he figured why not just come to a slow and steady walk as he followed. He found humor in the sense that while he was gone, that Gabriel’s group had come under attack, and yet they were pushed back. For a while he chuckled about it, but then he thought what would happen if he couldn’t get to Tartarus just because they were so far ahead. Gabriel had sighed to himself thinking about such petty quarrels, mainly due to the fact that no matter what, he was going to get there.

After a while later, he finally found a party that chased his friends off, only they were at a far distance away. Gabriel had no real intentions of fighting and was wanting to avoid them at all costs. The dumb part about this was that they were covering the entrance from which his group had entered. It was just Gabriel’s luck that something like that had to happen. These Viking like men were setting up patrol posts as well as trying to figure out another way in. That was a smart idea that Gabriel should have had in the first place. So Gabriel wondered off to the left side where he could feel an air gust from. It was a bitter cold gust, but that was the one he was looking for. On the side of the entrance, around 100ft away, he finally came across another entrance. It was traditional, in all honesty, it looked like an emergency escape route, but Gabriel was about to follow in, while evading the hostile men.

Gabriel began to walk into the tunnel, which was dark, damp, and smelled like an old wet cave. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the tunnel wasn’t so tight. The tunnel literately went from shoulder to shoulder with Gabriel and wasn’t any higher than 6’ 6” tall. He could hear the water dripping down in the cave as well as feel some of the moss amongst the walls from where water has been for a long time. Then something strange began to happen. It was as if, something was waiting for him deep down into the deepest reaches of this cave. As another wind gusted through the tunnel, he could make out words, though they were incredibly faint to the point where regular human ears couldn’t hear anything “Who are you?” The voice whispered in the tunnels. There was a dark magic about this voice as well as the wind gust. Gabriel felt a terrible power inside, one that he would need to get to his group in time for. Gabriel continued to walk through the tunnel, hoping to find an exit somewhere. It was a good thing he could sense life, otherwise Gabriel would be blind as a bat in this dark tunnel.

Chaaru

It’s been a while sense Chaaru had that battle with that wanna be Hothian. Chaaru was ashamed however that he lost his sword because of a cheap ass trick. It didn’t matter to him though, so long as he got Gluttony back, it was his destiny to make Hothian his bitch. For now, he just need to keep following these snow prints until he finally started settling into drier lands. This stupid snow was getting all over him, and he didn’t want to get wet just because the feeling of it was annoying. The air was bitter cold however, but this didn’t budge Chaaru one bit. The fact that something was cold was a nothing more than a mere nuisance to Chaaru. The colder it got, the less Chaaru cared, it was like a natural habitat to him.

A while of walking later, the snow had finally stopped and the land was beginning to turn green again. The only problem now was that the footprints were beginning to disappear. So this was going to be a bit more challenging than Chaaru had originally thought. So the only plan of action was to walk straight and hopefully find some way of making it to come kind of civilization. Then all of the sudden, Chaaru had seen some kind of ship off into the background going down for a strange reason. He didn’t see what happened, but he knew that it wasn’t far away. Maybe there would be enough survivors that he could talk to in order to get some information. He could have cared less if they crashed or not, but he did care about the remnants of that man named Marcius. Chaaru would have his sword back, as well as vengeance upon Hothian. Next time, Hothian was not going to escape… Hothian was he prey.

Death of Korzan
12-19-2012, 06:51 PM
The Mages Guild

“Aulus.” A voice seemed to melt through the woods and up into the ruined Mages tower, into Ovidius’s head. “Aulus…” The voice seemed faraway, as if spoken by someone who was dreaming . “Aulus.” The name repeated for the third time, before Ovidius passed out for ‘no apparent reason’.
He found himself standing in a white room lit well by simple means, gas powered lighting. In the middle of the room stood a large oak desk with a chair to complete it. Sitting in the chair was a beautiful woman, her clothes coloured with all the colours of the rainbow, the dress code wouldn’t have worked on anyone, but for some reason it suited the woman fine.

“Welcome, Aulus, I am Iris.” Iris stood up and took a step towards Ovidius. “I am sorry to have brought you here in such primitive ways for a God, but it was important.” Iris expected the dull thud of pain to have entered Aulus’s head by now, so she made things quick. “You and everyone you care about is in grave danger. Come, I will show you.” Iris took another step forward and her rainbow eyes glittered over the body of the spy, her face took a quick bend forward and planted a long kiss on his lips, he was taken back into the past.

The vision he was seeing was that of a quiet town, one he was unfamiliar with, a pregnant woman sat alone in a house made of stone, preparing some sort of ritual, it looked dangerous. Iris, unbeknownst to those around her was sitting on a chair outside of the window. “Do not fear, those who have come to pass cannot see us in these visions, as neither can the living.”

“This is Thetis, mother of the Second most powerful warrior to ever have lived. Watch the events that are about to unfold.” As Iris said that, it appeared that the Ritual had finished, and a large purple gateway opened in front of her. A flash of panic appeared on Thetis’s face, but disappeared when an extremely tall man with long blonde hair, dressed in midnight coloured armour etched with screaming faces of men stepped through the portal.

“Mars?” Aulus asked.

“No, War.” Iris grimly replied. “This is where it all begins.”

And so Thetis and War stood and talked, bartering it seems, Iris kept silent for the whole part, until waving her hand in the air. The boundaries of the walls that the sound seemed to hit did not seem to be there anymore, and Thetis and War were loud, as if Iris and Aulus were standing next to them.

“I don’t want him to die War, ever.”
“I will grant you free passage to my realm. You may dip him in the River Styx, he shall be immortal apart from the spot that you hold him, and it is important that you do not let him go.”
“Will this make him Immortal?”
“It will make him indestructible. However, by doing this his soul will never see the Fields of Asphodel in the underworld. I will take him for an afterlife of constant warfare…”
“That is fine, for he shall never die.”

Thetis seemed to have a smug look on her face as she said this, whilst War kept his monotone features still, eyeing Thetis. They both turned and walked through the portal, before it closed up.

Various images passed through Aulus’s mind with almost painful consequences. A burning city, a wooden horse, a desecrated temple of Apollo and a blonde man with two arrows in his heel, before everything faded into Darkness. “He is but one of your problems; For he has returned.”

Another vision then showed itself to Aulus, a fiery battlefield. Various Namorians stood, clad in red armour instead of the traditional blue attire. A man stood in front of the legions. The body of the army was around the same size as the Namorian army would be if grouped together at one time, however in front of the warriors stood a fearsome sight.
Screeching and spitting in front of the men stood hordes upon hordes of demons. On 4 horses stood the 4 Horsemen of Apocalypse, War with his monotone gaze, Destruction with half an arm on fire and a smirk painted on his lips, Strife with a glum look on his face and Tyranny with a whip that he lashed out at the Peons who got near him, a gleeful, murderous smile on his face.

Around the army stood the others of the Demon Realm, and above them, sitting on a mountain sat Kronos. An echoing laughter came from his mouth as he pointed towards the Roman legions. “Go…” the Demons screamed in glee and flew forwards at amazing pace. The Commanding officer of this large force stood and yelled commands. “Shields!” The demons got half way towards them. “Set.” They were within spear distance. “Attack!” The first wave of Demons flew into the ranks of the Romans, but before the aftermath could be seen, the vision faded.

“The Romans quelled the Demon invasion of Earth, they gave their lives and the stability of their empire to save the universe. They were defeated by barbarians a few years after this event. You will need their allegiance should you defend against the coming storm.”

As the vision faded, painful feelings of sorrow and pain hit Aulus. “And now, the final vision I can show you.”
The river Styx flew freely in this vision, the air was full of fog and smelled of sulphur and Demons. Two men stood in the middle of a circle of spectral men, their weapons clashing. The Blonde hair of the man who died before, and another man, much taller than the dead man, who’s armour was ebony, with two long, red horsetail plumes that shot out from the top of his helmet and slid down the back of his armour. One carried a spear and shield, whilst the taller man carried a halberd. They continued to fight, whilst War appeared on a throne in the background, being fed food by various spectral battle-maidens. As the fight went on it was easy to see who was winning, and as the blonde man fell to the ground and the Halberd’s blade touched his neck lightly, the fight ended. War clapped, “Well done, my son.” The Demon Lord stood and walked towards the tall man in Black armour and placed a hand on his chest. “You are now the greatest warrior to ever live. And you.” War turned to the blonde man. “Back to the Underworld with you, you are no use to me anymore.” And so the blonde man faded.

“Father, are there none who could face me?”

The vision faded from view and Iris’s voice echoed in Aulus’s mind. “Your ladies husband is running towards the second most powerful warrior of all time, I cannot tell you whether he will live to see the day that follows his fight, but I can at least warn you not to journey there. Keep away from Hercine and Dun Moriga. And stay above ground…”

Ovidius then awoke.

Dun Moriga
There was a deathly silence that seemed to plague the high mountain tops, no birds flew, the sky was shrouded in a thick mist of clouds and the bitter cold stabbed into the skin of the men and horses. A figure stood at the end of a path that seemingly whirled around the mountains for eternity, out of sight unless looked upon with binoculars, the being watched the quest party with hunger in her eyes, as she prepared to strike, a cracking noise was heard. The figure cursed and sped off into the mountains.

"Did you hear that?" said Salvius, snapping his arm up towards the others in a signal to halt. They were not far from the entrance to Ech Zilidar, but the centurion was not going to relax until they were among their dwarven allies or, better yet, his fellow Namorians of the Moriga and Ferrata legions.

"Maybe your other Auxiliary friend has caught up with us?" Altius murmured as he reined in his horse. He was talking about Gabriel, who the others had mentioned once or twice over the course of the journey.

"Fuck him." Salvius grunted. He doubted that they would be seeing Gabriel again after several days apart and neither of them with a clear idea of the path the other had taken. That said, he would prefer for it to be their nominal ally lurking ahead rather than more Norsemen, or something even worse. He realised that they still didn't know just what it was that had been attacking Afragia and Dun Moriga. No Southerner raiding party could have come this far north and caused the kind of panic and destruction that princess Nesara had described.

Well, the centurion thought, perhaps we're about to find out. It'll be good to put a face to the enemy before we kill it.

"Wait here." he said to the others, dropping down from the saddle and drawing his sword. Slinging his heavy shield over his back to leave one hand free for climbing, he worked his way up into the rocks that surrounded the path until he found a plateau that ran parallel to the causeway. He used this as a vantage point as he worked his way along, trying to keep the sound of his hob-nailed sandles against the loose stones as quiet as possible.

A large, hollow sigh was heard from a voice that sounded wise and as ancient as the universe itself. Where Salvius faced, there was now a face etched into the wall of the mountain. “Greetings, fleshling. I am Gaea, God of the Low Mountains, one of the 8 terrestrial Gods, what would you be doing, on my pathway?”

For a moment, Salvius was struck dumb. Then he realised what he was seeing and dropped to one knee in the gravel, laying his sword down flat next to him. Gaea was not one of the primary gods of Namor, nor thankfully a strong patron of the South, but any god that chose to reveal itself to a mortal demanded instant respect. Salvius coughed to clear his throat and to make sure that his voice wouldn't waver.

"Dominus." he said, "I am travelling with my group to Ech Zilidar for supplies and news, and then on to Afragia."

“Heading to the Ech, aye? To the dwarven Metropolis.” Gaea’s face crinkled in confusion. “And what, would a Namorian be doing heading to the city, haven’t you heard it is, under siege?”

"Under siege." Salvius repeated bleakly, "By who, my lord?"
"I am an old being..." Gaea's face drooped in sadness. "I do not have the heart in me to tell you who is attacking, I sense great power inside you." Gaea looked into Salvius's eyes and slowly a doorway cracked next to him. "I will let you and your friends past, including those you have lost. Stay quiet in the mountains, they are too numerous to fight face to face."

Salvius dropped his gaze to the loose chips of stone around his feet as he considered the implications of the god's words. But when he raised his head to thank the rocky manifestation it had disappeared, leaving only smooth stone in its place. The tunnel it had opened, however, still gaped wide.

Salvius rose, picked up his sword and retraced his steps until the rest of the group came back into view below him.

"Bring the horses up." he called down to them, "There's a way in up ahead. Stay quiet."

The Bartender
12-19-2012, 07:48 PM
Dun Moriga

Numiera followed quietly in the shadows an arrow prepared to be shot if needed. They moved throught the mountain and the young woman looked around herself all the time as it was new for her to be inside a mountain.
"There is something in here..." Numiera whispered but just walked behind the group and observed the surroundings.
"Why is it so warm here?" She asked Nesara even thought it was actually very cold in the moist tunnel but Numiera as a half-breed and a dweller of the darkness she felt inverted and heat was cold for her as cold warmth was even thought she had no idea about it.
Then Salvius climbed up the cliff and Numiera was almost following him as she felt something strange up there and stopped quickly. The feeling was extremely difficult to say what it was...
Then the feeling wanished and Salvius called them up and thus Numiera followed the centurion with ease and climbed the wall without and problems and then crouched down and listened the wall and the ground of the tunnel. A quiet, regular noice went throught the rock, there were other, even more silent noices as well, a battle...
"There is a fight not far away, about...100... no about 80 warriors... I think they are in trouble..." Numiera said quietly but still so loud that Salvius could hear...

Azazeal849
12-20-2012, 01:09 PM
HERCINE, THE PREVIOUS EVENING

A frown creased Marcius' weather-beaten features as he watched the refugee column wind its painful way eastwards. There were a few hundred legionaries, as the scouts had said - mostly in the livery of the 5th Hercina but with a few stragglers from the 7th Rapax who had apparently been separated from their comrades. Only about half of the men carried their packs, and many were missing their heavy infantry shields. Strangely, Marcius noted, there was a distinct lack of centurion crests among the battered helmets, and very few men who seemed to be visibly leading at all. It was as if the Hercina had suffered disproportionate casualties among their command staff. Accompanying the legionaries were a few Hercinian cat-men and their crocolyke slaves, looking just as ragged, and a long trail of civilians who seemed to have gravitated towards the soldiers in the hope of protection. Some carried young children, or small bundles of hastily-gathered valuables and food. The range of expressions ran from bitter, to distraught, to simply weary. Everything spoke of a heavy defeat and a disorganised flight, and Marcius' hand drifted subconsciously towards his iron sword hilt to counter the bad omen.

"Are you in charge of this detachment?" he asked the man who his praefectus brought forward to the fort while the rest of 5th cohort led the refugees around the hill to a second campsite. 'Detachment', he thought ruefully, was a generous term indeed for the ragged band of survivors.

"Tribune Castus, of the 5th." the man replied, with an attempt at a salute. His armour was streaked with dirt and old blood, and his face looked like it had borne the cares of the whole world.

"What about the 7th?" Marcius asked. After seeing Rapax soldiers dead in the last town, he wanted to know what had happened to the rest of the legion.

"There's some elements of the Rapax with us, but most of their survivors fled north towards the town of Constantinium. I don't know how many of them made it or if they're in any condition to keep fighting."

"Oath of Mars." Marcius sighed. "What happened?"

"We were defeated, sir."

There was a brief silence among the assembled commanders. Marcius looked grim, Cassius pensive, and Vorinius bellicose, as if the defeat of a brother legion had somehow tarnished his own honour. The silence was broken only by Silverwick making a low growl in his throat. Tribune Castus glanced nervously at the tusked wolf before adding, hesitantly:

"Sir...my men were unable to save many supplies when we retreated. As you can see a number of civilians followed us, and many of them are unprovisioned."

Marcius massaged his chin with one hand. People might be starving, but the legatus had the supply chain of his own legion to consider; especially now that it seemed as if that legion was currently the only effective fighting force left in Hercine.

"Praefectus." he said, turning to his camp commander, "What's our supply situation?"

"Food for 14 more days, sir, at standard rations." the senior centurion replied.

The legatus thought for another moment. "See the refugees to a few days worth of supplies, enough to get them back to friendly territory."

While the camp praefectus left to go about the logistics of the operation, Marcius and his command staff attempted to debrief the shell-shocked tribune. After taking a few minutes to order his thoughts, Castus was able to give them some idea of what had happened.

"These...'Greeks'." Marcius asked him. "How do they fight? How can we defeat them?"

"They fight with long spears, in dense blocks." Castus explained. "There's just no way through them from the front. In the first encounter our men ran before contact. But legatus Scipio eventually figured out how unmaneuverable they were, and if you can get round their flanks you've got a chance. We thought we had them beaten but..."

"But what?"

"They came back. Their dead came back to life. I saw it with my own eyes!"

Marcius looked up sharply.

"The Romans." Cassius said, giving voice to the commander's fear. "We have to warn the emperor!"

"It's out of our hands right now." Marcius said levelly. They would know for sure when Cassius' scouts returned from the Combrogian border, and hopefully if there was trouble they would think to send a messenger to Emor before returning with the news. As for the Fulminata legion, they could not double back now as the resurrected Romans would already have several days head start, and it would leave Hercine at the mercy of the Greeks. The only viable choice now was to defeat these new enemies swiftly, and hope that the Emor garrison held in the meantime. And surely they would hold - the three Emor legions were the elite of the Imperium's army. But how to permanently deal with enemies who would not die, both Roman and Greek? Burn them to ashes? Bury them in lead? Keep them alive but imprisoned? It was a question that they would have to find an answer to soon - the invaders had to be stalled until Salvius and the others retrieved the Alcamor Stones.

"Romans?" Castus asked in confusion.

"There's trouble everywhere right now, tribune." Marcius said severely, "Carry on with your report. What happened next?"

Castus swallowed and went on. "Once the third battle was joined a few of their men rushed out of formation and charged straight through our ranks. They were mages and swordsmen, impossibly good swordsmen. I saw them taking on four or five legionaries at once and they just couldn't hit them. They went straight for our commanders and cut them down. After legatus Scipio was killed we tried to hunker down in Hercinia and wait them out."

Hercinia was the capital from which the province drew its name, a thriving coastal city into which flowed a rich trade of oil, silver and exotic foodstuffs from the islands of the archipelago. It was protected by high stone walls almost the equal of Emor's, and even in the event of a complete naval blockade could survive several months of siege.

"Surely you didn't fuck up so badly as to get driven out of the city?" Vorinius growled.

Castus glanced uneasily from the angry officer to Marcius. "Their mages smashed our walls. We lost more than half the legion in the defence. I ordered the retreat - it was all I could do."

The tribune produced a bundled cloak, and unwrapped it to reveal a golden Aquila, which he had been forced to break off from the top of the legion standard in order to conceal it during the flight. The emblem looked small and insignificant separated from its staff. Marcius and his tribunes looked at it grimly.

"How many of them are there?" Marcius asked at length.

"Perhaps 5000? Less than a legion, which was why we were so confident of engaging them at first. But numbers don't matter so much when the bastards won't stay dead."


* * * * * *

"So where do we march?" Cassius asked as the command staff of the Fulminata legion pored over a map spread across the table in the legatus' tent. The map was weighted down at the corners with wax candles, which cast a flickering yellow light across the tent canvas. Calvus, as always, stood in bodyguard position behind Marcius' shoulder, and Silverwick lay in a corner with his head on his massive paws, watching silently. "The capital? Try and link up with the Rapax?"

"No." Marcius answered. "Mars specifically told us to stay away from Hercinia. So...we'll make them come to us."

He traced a gnarled finger along the highway his legion was currently using, the primary trade route and the main way in or out of Hercine province. It trailed south and west from Namor through the outlying farms and mines of Hercinia to the city itself, but long before it reached the city Marcius tapped his finger down on a town labelled Vigilatum.

"We can reach there early tomorrow. We'll be barring the way out of Hercine, and presenting an obvious threat to the capital. Unless these Greeks are happy to completely surrender the initiative, I warrant they'll march to try and kick us out."


* * * * * *

SOUTH NAMOR, NOW

"Gods have mercy." the Fulminata scout whispered to his companion as they rode through the deserted ruins of the mining town.

The town had grown up around the rich seam of iron ore that ran through the area, and as a number of foundries began to spring up it had become more economical to process the metal locally than to transport it to Emor, allowing the town to grow rich from the export of tools and weapons. Someone had taken advantage of this, slaughtering the garrison and making off with a large number of weapons and armour suits.

"The bastards were definitely here." the other rider agreed, "And recently."

"And now they're armed." said the first, his voice heavy with foreboding. "Do you think Septimus and Varro have made it to the city yet and warned them?"

"They can't be far off - they must be almost at the Mages' Guild by now at the least." The scout paused to pull his scarf up round his nose and mouth, in an attempt to filter the stench of dead bodies and fire-gutted ruins. "Come on Quintus, we need to keep moving."

Epostle
12-28-2012, 04:41 AM
Gabriel

For a few hours, Gabriel continuously traveled in the tight tunnels. These tunnels were tight enough to send a person with claustrophobia into insanity. The air was still dank, but it seems to be closing off as he further went through the tunnels. Gabriel could easily walk through the place though, since he doesn’t need vision for walking. His only trouble was wondering when the exit will appear. Still a fair ways behind his group, Gabriel was wondering how far along this very place they were. Then all of the sudden Gabriel began to hear a little bit of clattering and gurgling noises a little further down. Gabriel could feel death within these tunnels and the further he went in, the more webs he could feel within the tunnels. This was apparently a spiders den. These weren’t ordinary spider though because these spiders were much bigger than you normal everyday spider. The webs were extremely sticky and became more dense. Then from somewhere he couldn’t correctly pin point, he heard a voice saying “Calm children, we have a visitor within our dens. He isn’t a normal visitor though… no… there is something strange about him. What is your purpose here… why bring your light into our darkness? Our… subtle darkness… home.” The creatures voice then faded away. He apparently was not just in a den, but a Nerubian Broodmothers Den.

Nerubian Broodmothers are particularly calm and hypnotic with their words of subtlety. They rarely ever venture out into the light and do most of their hunting on larger mammals. When a Broodmother hunts, they can spin webs, each carrying its own special ability depending on the Broodmother swarms. Nerubians are a very powerful race of Broodmothers though, for they can call upon dark magics to vanquish unwanted intruders. They also nest a home of children by the thousands. The Broodmothers physical aspects include them being as beautiful as any woman you will ever see. They appear as any other human being would, except their skin would be a grey tint and have markings along their face. Depending on what tribe they were from, their markings will vary in both color and shape. They also wear fairly skimpy clothing due to their seductive ways. That’s how they further grow their children, through the lust of men.

After figuring out what he had stumbled upon, he began to wonder what had the impulse to further pull him in without much effort at all. Due to Gabriels acute sense of hearing, the hypnotic and pleasuring voice pulled him further, though Gabriel was no full to actually partake in any “special” activity that they would want to cook up. Gabriel then felt things all around him, and Gabriel questioned “So, this is your lair Broodmother?” Gabriel said as the “children” walked around them, some being of spider nature while the others were actually fairly humanoid. “Ohhhhh how I’ve waited so long… for a being of your caliber.” She said as she brought webs through her palms as she shimmied down the pole in a seductive sense. “You my little… wet dream… have been summoned here… yet you are strong enough to resist all of my attempts to serenade you into my bed.” She then walked up to him as she touched his mask bend over slightly. She then said in a puppy like voice “what are you? Are you maybe… a mage? No… you’re a little bit different than that.” She said as she walked around him as if he were like a desert, just waiting to be “devoured.” Gabriel then said sternly “ You will not seduce me… I know what you are and you don’t know what I am. Just tell me why you summoned me here?” She then frowned as she came back in front of him, saddened by the response, but not angry at the least. “I just wanted to say that… we’re afraid… we have a handful of enemies in this place. Yet, the dwarves prove to be our most hated, though we do not want a war with them. Now they’re scared of the same enemy that we are… but we can’t make contact with them because… well… they’re very skittish of us.” She said as she walked back to her web-like throne to sit upon as her servants presented her with different kinds of mammals do digest. “So what do you want me to do about it woman?” he said as he walked forward, trying to get a direct answer from her. “I want to help… aid our short neighbors… for we are not man eaters. That is their hugest misconception… a pathetic attempt to keep at war with us.” She said in an annoyed tone. She then crossed her legs and leaned her head forward and used her right arm as a prop for her head. “If you do this, I would be greatful to be friends with not only them, but you as well.” Gabriel then turned around and began to walk as he spoke “Then let me see what I can do… also… is there a quicker way through these tunnels?” The woman then giggled as she clapped her hands together and fell back in her seat. She then made a hand motion and the ground below him grew loose.

The ground that he had been standing on must have apparently been a reinforced silk webbing that led as another secret escape route. As Gabriel fell, it was like riding a water slide only harder. Gabriel kept gaining speed as he eventually, after a few minutes later, evacuated upwards and into the air. Gabriel, being nimble, used the air propulsion as a way to make him flip, causing him to land on his feet in a kneeling position. Gabriel was covered in webbing and his white robe had black streaks along it from back to front. His mask went unscathed through, which wasn’t surprising to Gabriel. He then sensed his allies in front of him, which was a good sign for they were in danger.

La Volpe
01-02-2013, 01:37 AM
Kuronus looked towards the sky, it was getting dark fast, but Salvius had managed to find a entrance into the tunnels. Slowly pulling his hood over his head, he quickly made his way up to Salvius. "Lead the way... But after we're safe, we need to talk about something." He whispered as he walked along. His hand rested on his swords hilt, all of his nerves were on edge. All of his senses were working on overdrive at the moment, colors were more vibrant, smells and sounds clearer, and Kuronus could swear he could feel the individual grooves in the leather of his sword handle. "Salvius... How close is the next full moon?" Kuronus asked from under his hood, in the rush of recent events, the ranger had lost track of the days, and he wanted, no he needed to know when the lunar peak was.

Azazeal849
01-04-2013, 05:34 PM
EMOR, NOW

Ovidius then awoke. His hand flew to his belt, seeking to grasp the hilt of a dagger that was no longer there. The movement was arrested by a firm hand, attached to a dark-skinned arm.

"Is this going to be a regular thing?" said Afragia.

"Suriyana." Ovidius sighed, leaning back on his pillow as he realised that he was once again in the guest quarters of the Marcius family villa.

"You probably shouldn't call me that." the slave girl said, although she seemed pleased that he had remembered her native name. "At least not under Domina's roof."

"Next you'll be insisting on calling me 'master Ovidius' again." Ovidius gritted his teeth and massaged his eyes with the heels of his hands, hoping the pressure would alleviate the deeper throbbing inside his skull. Although he could recall the dream only vaguely, the headache remained. "How did I get here?"

"You collapsed at the tower. They all thought it was just heat-stroke until you didn't wake up, and started shouting in your sleep about an invincible warrior and Dominus being in danger."

The words brought a part of the vision back into Ovidius' mind with crystal clarity, and he made to rise, ignoring the stab of pain that the movement sent through his head. "It was a vision, a vision from Isis...where's Domina?"

"Still with Seppia, I think. Your ranting scared her enough to ask Gaius Octavius to use that old pet owl from his mage days to send a warning to Dominus."

"So she already knows." Ovidius sank back on the bed, and pressed his palms into his eyes again until purple blobs danced across his vision.

"Here, drink this." Afragia said, offering him a cup of water that had been hardened with a small pinch of sugar and salt - the standard dehydration cure. "What's the matter?"

"Just shaken." the spy admitted, lowering his hands and accepting the cup. "I thought that the gods were in the habit of speaking to heroes and kings, rather than mercenaries like me."

"And in the grand scheme of it, are you worth less?" Afragia said pointedly. "The gods know better than us who's worthy of their attention. Especially Isis."

There was a touch of reverence in her tone - Isis was, after all, the goddess most associated with her homeland.

Ovidius scratched at the stubble on his cheek, reflecting that the slave's egalitarian viewpoint wasn't far removed from his own world view. After all, it was only accidents of birth that separated kings from slaves, and under the right circumstances potentially anybody could rise up to be a hero. Ovidius wasn't self-deluding enough to think of himself as a hero, but he did smile at Afragia's words.

"And is being a newly-minted vessel of the gods enough to make you trust me to take you out one night?" he tried on.

Afragia's face hardened into a familiar lopsided grin. "With no disrespect to Isis, absolutely not. But I wouldn't mind seeing you in the market tomorrow."


* * * * * *

DUN MORIGA, NOW

"There is a fight not far away, about...100...no about 80 warriors...I think they are in trouble..." Numiera said quietly.

The centurion shot her a quizzical look. He would have said she was imaginining it, since he could hear nothing himself, if the report hadn't been so oddly precise. And there were many strange breeds on Eternum - the Hercinian cat-men, for example - whose hearing was far more sensitive than an ordinary human's. He nodded briefly to Numiera and unslung his shield.

"Someone light a torch." he whispered. The tunnel that Gaea had revealed to them was clearly not one well-used by the natives, and beyond the doorway the cave quickly descended into pitch darkness.

Being the only one with a shield, Salvius took point - leading with the curved scutum and with his sword in hand behind it, ready to thrust into anything hiding outside the flickering sphere of light cast by their torch.

"Salvius...how close is the next full moon?" Koronus asked from under his hood. In the rush of recent events, the ranger had lost track of the days, and he wanted - no, he needed to know when the lunar peak was.

"Tonight." Salvius replied in a whisper. He didn't look round as he answered; evidently, he assumed that Koronus was thinking of using the increased illumination to hunt. "But you won't find much game around here even if we do get back above ground. The mountain goats usually migrate down to the lower slopes in summer."

La Volpe
01-04-2013, 10:36 PM
Though no one could see it, Kuronus paled at the answer he was given. Tonight? That is not good, not at all! he yelled in his mind. Letting out a quiet curse, Kuronus slid his sword from its sheath, falling right behind Salvius. "We need to hurry, if there is a fight, are aid may be needed." He said quietly to his friend. His mind reeled with the dark outcomes that may occur if he turned while trapped in these close quarters. It would be a massacre. Kuronus shook his head, trying to fight off the dark thoughts, right now he needed to focus on what was ahead, not what may happen. Turning towards Numiera Kuronus whisphered "How do you know there is a battle young one? What aren't you telling us?" he finished slowing his pace slightly.

Epostle
01-07-2013, 11:07 AM
Hate

“Marcius… you insisted helping those even though you knew your stocks weren’t of the best? You are a fool… but generous.” Shacorai said as the sword began to rattle a bit in its hilt. “When will you battle again? And why are you playing the bitch to Mars? He may be a god, but you have your own free will if I’m right… aren’t I?” Shacorai began to laugh at the feeble attempts Marcius made at planning.

“And as for Silverwick, did you notice his growl? He seems as if he lost his temper for a moment… a very bad thing for a were-beast to do. Do you really think that beast can control himself forever?” Shacorai said loudly in Marcius’s head as Shacorai paced the depths of his nether. Contemplating, Shacorai found a great idea on how to get Marcius to use him. He then laughed as he said “These Greeks as you call them use defensive blocks? How trivial at best. If you were to use me, I could break the blocks easily… but you refuse me and my power. Are you afraid Marcius? Do you fear Mars’ judgement when he trusted you to wield me? Incompetent fool… you should know first hand what I am capable of.”

Shacorai then thought to himself if his trick actually worked. He wondered if Mars truly recognized if he made the best decision by giving they sword to this man, and if he truly knew what Shacorai is capable of. Shacorai began to laugh at the pathetic god’s attempt to break his power away from Gabriel’s… maybe a plan to weaken Shacorai himself or Gabriel. How did Mars even get his hand on himself to begin with? The last thing Shacorai remembered was an encasement as he lowered his life rating to the point of non-existence. Does Mars truly know me… the sword… or even of his former master Gabriel? Master Gabriel? What a joke… Gabriel is no more his master than Marcius. All of them are pawns for his malicious intent, though he cannot lie.

“I hid myself from Mars… he never knew what existed in this sword… did he?” Shacorai began to think to himself more. Could Mars himself be planning something? Nothing will stop me… I am the Destroyer… not even Destruction himself will compare to me in the end… I will break everything… and take everything… and no one will survive my wrath… my vengeance!!!

The Bartender
01-07-2013, 12:59 PM
Dun Moriga, Now
After Kuronus had talked with Salvius about the full moon Numiera realized why the man was wearing the furs and what the strange smell on him was but she decided to ask the man personally before making any hasty decisions.
"How do you know there is a battle young one? What aren't you telling us?" Kuronus turned to her and Numiera gasped;
"Nu...Numiera heard it, the noises move throught the stones and corridors of the mountain. Numiera was just listening to the noices and Numiera heard a fight...." Numiera looked down on the floor of the tunnel, "Numiera tells you if you tell me what you are not telling. Numiera want's to be all sure so numiera has enough time to hide before it starts." She was now grinning like a small fox toward the man who towered before her, "Did you also know that the sun is already setting down, time is running out, tick-tock-tick-tock..." Numiera swung her fingers like a pendelum.
Numiera noticed the smell of the strange man before he showed up and looked at him, he was glad in webs and there was another smell she had never smelled attached on him, a spider or something like that but it was too sweet and resembled human to be from a spider. She had heard stories about spider-like creatures inside the mountains but never seen one, maybe it was the smell of those. Numiera then followed Salvius as the moved toward in the tunnel.
After they had moved a short while Numiera felt something strange and she grabbed her stomache but the feeling as if something had just slid down her throat repeated in quick succession and suddenly she turned toward the wall and threw over, not like a normal human in one go, it was like a stream of water that came out of her mouth but it was black, picht black like oil and so stiky it stucked on thestone wall and slowly dripped downwards.
As the feeling wanished Numiera stood up after falling on her knees and walked forward while her hands were shaking a bit. She knew this feeling would repeat often from now on...

---

Somewhere near the Mage Guild, Yesterday

Isabella and her group had neared the city for a while but they had also noticed a tall tower showing up and they had decided to go there in order to gain more height to send their emergency signal. They had walked for three hours now and some of the marines began to get tired;
"Lietnaunt von Bayern, could we make a short break?" Asked one of the soldiers. Isabella turned to them and said;
"Okey, regain your breath, drink and eat, check your supplies and equipment, we will move in 5." Isabella sat down and looked toward the tower throught her scouter (inspired by Dragonball!) and scanned it with thermal in order to see if someone was still there. She didn't see any signals for life there but there were signals before the tower, humans and horses, armed troops? So near the capitol? This must be checked.
"Okey folks, lets get going." Isabella shouted and their march went forward but this time Isabella spurted them and after the activation of their leg implants their speed rose and they would reach the tower at the sunrise...

La Volpe
01-09-2013, 08:59 PM
Kuronus chuckled a little bit at Numerias actions. "If what you are saying is true... Then you already know little half bread." He was surprised she had caught on so quick, but this also concerned him. She was right to want time to hide... But in a place like this... There would be few places the beast couldn't follow.. He snapped out of his private thoughts as the girl threw up a black, unnatural liquid that clung to the wall. "What in the nine hells is that?" He asked her quietly.

Azazeal849
01-15-2013, 09:21 PM
HERCINE, THE PREVIOUS EVENING

Marcius had retired to his tent, alone save for Silverwick, when his demon sword began its inexorable whispering.

“Marcius… you insisted helping those even though you knew your stocks weren’t of the best? You are a fool… but generous.” Shacorai said as the sword began to rattle a bit in its hilt. “When will you battle again? And why are you playing the bitch to Mars? He may be a god, but you have your own free will if I’m right… aren’t I?” Shacorai began to laugh at the feeble attempts Marcius made at planning.

“And as for Silverwick, did you notice his growl? He seems as if he lost his temper for a moment… a very bad thing for a were-beast to do. Do you really think that beast can control himself forever?” Shacorai said loudly in Marcius’s head as Shacorai paced the depths of his nether. Contemplating, Shacorai found a great idea on how to get Marcius to use him. He then laughed as he said “These Greeks as you call them use defensive blocks? How trivial at best. If you were to use me, I could break the blocks easily… but you refuse me and my power. Are you afraid Marcius? Do you fear Mars’ judgement when he trusted you to wield me? Incompetent fool… you should know first hand what I am capable of.”

Marcius ripped his sword belt from around his waist, slamming his gladius and Hate down onto the wooden table together. As he put his hands on Hate's scabbard in an attempt to silence it, Silverwick raised his tusked head from his paws and looked over at the sudden noise. Marcius turned to the great wolf, breathing heavily.

“You're a creature of the gods, Silverwick.” he said quietly after a moment, “You know their minds better than me. What would you do? Is it right to spurn a gift from Mars when you're afraid it'll do more harm than good in your hands?”

The legatus sighed and lowered himself slowly into his chair, glowering at the pulsing demon sword.

“I hate this sword, Silverwick. I hate it with every fibre of my being. It might help us defeat the Romans and the Greeks, but at every turn it keeps trying to turn me against my oaths...and my own friends!” He sighed. “And I can't get rid of it. What would it do to someone else if they had this thing whispering in their ear every gods-damned day? What if they started listening to it? I know Mars gave it to me, but am I doing the right thing with it?”


* * * * * *

HERCINE, NOW

“Legatus!”

The shout rang through the camp as the last rays of daylight vanished behind the distant hills, bringing Decius Marcius out of his tent with Calvus and Silverwick at his heel. The Fulminata had reached the town of Vigilatum earlier that day, daring the Greeks in their newly-conquered capital to dislodge them, and according to their scouts the Greeks had responded in full force, although their legion-sized main army would not reach Vigilatum until around midday tomorrow. There was nothing to do for now but wait, and no good news in the meantime; there was no contact yet with what remained of the Rapax legion, and two of Cassius' scouts had returned from Namor with the dire news that the Romans had indeed risen from their graves. Marcius hoped that the other scouts had reached Emor and warned the Emperor, but of course there was no way of telling.

“What is it?” Marcius asked, but saw for himself when he registered the young centurion standing with a tawny-feathered owl perched on his arm.

“Another bloody messenger bird?” tribune Vorinius said gruffly, having come running with his hand on his sword hilt expecting bad news when the shout went up.

“It's not the princess' bird.” tribune Cassius pointed out as he joined them. “Who else could have sent one?”

“I guess I'm just popular with ex-mages at the moment.” Marcius grunted to his unplanned gathering of tribunes – even Castus was there, having become a de-facto Fulminata officer after he had decided to attach the Hercina survivors to Marcius' legion, in the hope of making some meaningful contribution as a fighting force.

Marcius approached the owl and carefully removed the tightly-folded scroll from its leg. “Wait a minute,” he said suddenly, “I recognise this owl. It's Gaius Octavius' old bird. This message is from Emor.”

The tribunes fell into an expectant silence, while Marcius frowned as he unfolded the parchment, wondering what news his cousin-in-law had sent him. The frown lessened as he read the first line.

“It's from my wife.” he said, an involuntary smile creasing his features and softening his usually stern face. “A moment, if you please gentlemen?”

The tribunes remained outside as Marcius ducked back into his tent, Calvus wordlessly taking up position outside while Silverwick, who was beholden to no laws except his own, loped in after the commander. The great wolf watched Marcius as he sat down, slowly on account of his burns still paining him, and began to read. The letter was dated the previous evening.

My dearest Decius,

I hope this letter finds you well. All of Emor celebrated when your men returned with news of victory and the Roman prisoners. Young Marcus was especially inspired. You're bringing hope, and the gods know the Imperium needs that right now. Diana's doing well in school, and Aurelia's looking forward to starting her own studies soon. All in all, things in the city are carrying on about as well as could be reasonably expected.

I need to warn you though, Decius - our cousins and I rode to the Guild today, and we found evidence of demons having overrun the place. They had all either been killed or fled back to Tartarus by the time we arrived, but it doesn't bode well. The Emperor has ordered the garrison legions to remain in the city. Also, our man Ovidius suffered a vision from the gods while we were at the Guild – he talked in his sleep about you running towards a son of Thetis, apparently the second most powerful warrior of all time, and that you were in great danger if you faced him. Please be careful, my love.

We all pray for you and the Fulminata, and for praetor Maximus on his mission south. Fight well, Decius. Win the war and come back to us a hero.

All my love,
Lycinia

Marcius continued to smile as he read. As always, his wife was cleverer than she looked – being careful to offer encouragement without mentioning whether she or the children missed him, or dwelling on anything else that might distract him from his mission. Despite her tact, Marcius still felt a strong pang of longing as he pictured his wife's face, their smiling children, and the sun rising over their family villa in Namor. By the gods, he thought with a sudden savagery, he would get back to them, no matter how many undying warriors stood in his way and how hard the bastard demon sword tried to turn him from his path.

As the smile fell from his face, it deepened into a frown as he read the letter again and realised that Lycinia clearly didn't know about the resurrected Romans yet, or else she would have been less enthusiastic about reporting the arrival of his prisoner column. He had to warn them - even if Cassius' scouts delivered the news first, it was a logical safeguard in case they were delayed, or didn't arrive at all. It was night time, the natural time for an owl to travel, and so with luck any letter he sent now would reach Emor the following morning.

He turned his wife's letter over and looked around the tent for his writing implements.

Death of Korzan
01-23-2013, 01:15 AM
Dun Moriga

"There is a fight not far away, about...100... no about 80 warriors... I think they are in trouble..."
As the party began to quicken pace through the deep caverns of Dun Moriga, the sound of clashing steel and screaming creatures and Dwarves emerged from the abyssal darkness. The question party soon found themselves on a high up ledge over-looking a large glacial valley-like crater with a wall panning the Eastern side. On top of the wall sat various cannons and catapults that were being constantly fired. Ech Ziladar.

In front of the massive gates stood a single line of Namorian troops, the last of the garrisons in Dun Moriga. In front of them stood a massive horde like none seen before: A huge mass of grey beastly creatures stood a few kilometres away from the line of Namorians, spitting and cursing. Orcs. They were there by the thousand, their disgusting grey bodies swarming and thrashing like a dying snake. In the midst of their ranks stood various creatures, each standing at around 14 foot tall and wielding a crudely made weapon, they donned crudely made iron armor and roared and pounded their chests like angry gorillas. Trolls. Then there were those that rode on the wargs, foul creatures of lupine nature though uncontrolled by the new god. They were truly feral beasts.

In amongst the orc army stood various other creatures, around 80 Cyclops’, standing at 8 foot tall and wielding trees and wooden clubs; Anequines, spider-pegasi, who’s giant arachnid limbs skittered on the ground ferociously, their fanged equine maws spewing venom onto the smooth stone floor. Then in the middle of the army was a Chariot carrying a single Orc. This orc was different however, there was a blue glue from his eyes, he stood bolder and was clearly the alpha of the army, none of the 20,000 creatures dared challenge him.

“Kill them all! Leave none alive!”

And so the army charged and clattered against the raised shields of the remnants of a once powerful garrison.

Hercine

Hercules watched as the Namorian legions positioned themselves near to his newly conquered land. His nose flared at their ignorance and he gathered his horses and just 100 men. He then summoned for Achilles, knowing he would be their key to victory. As the 100 men, Achilles and their leader Hercules got on top of their horses and rode towards the Namorian garrison, the sheer size of the army shocked Hercules. Whilst he felt he could hold them back steadily in a direct attack, he knew they did not have a warrior capable of defeating Achilles, and death was also on their side.
Eventually, the small Greek force reached the Namorians, and Hercules sent a clear message to whoever their leader was.

“We shall save this bloodshed on our new land. Your best warrior shall face my best warrior, or he shall kill you either way.”

La Volpe
01-23-2013, 09:46 PM
Kuronus let out a low beast like growl as he looked at the hoard gathered to siege the city. Orcs, so many of them all banded together in one place was causing the rangers nose to burn from their stench. He looked out across the vast army, his eyes falling on the cyclops and Trolls in turn, finally settling his gaze on the wargs. The sight of them brought forth another beast like growl from deep within Kuronus' chest. "Look there! the one on the chariot!" He whispered to his companions, pointing towards the War chief of this massive hoard. "I've never seen such a force of orcs amassed in one place like this!" he continued, trying to keep a growl out of his tone. The ranger fell silent as he shifted his gaze towards the defending army. It's going to be a massacre... So few against so many...

Looking at Salvius, Kuronus' mind raced. "How could so many beasts have gathered without notice?" He asked, trying to rap his mind around it. It was natural for orcs to form tribes and such, but those were only small groups of 100 or so... Not anything like this. And at the rare times something like this was noticed, it was extinguished before it grew to this scale. "We need to do something, and fast!" He finished, looking back just in time to see the horde charge the defending line.

The Bartender
01-30-2013, 01:33 PM
Dun Moriga, now

Numiera wiped her mouth and didn't say anything to Kuronus. She followed the others, right behind the Princess. As they came on the ledge, Numiera gasped and looked at the others and tightened her grip on her bow. She looked toward the other side of the crater and noticed a small edge that led along the sides of the crater and there were some small outposts placed on the way to the other side;
"There, let us use that way to go around..." Numiera said and pulled at Salvius cape and showed toward the edge.

---

Mages Guild, same morning

Isabellas group neared the tower with great speed but they also noticed that there was movement at the edge of the forest on the other side of the great city. She stopped the troop and observed the forest with her scouter; there were a large group of people hiding in the forest, it as larger than 1 legion and it seemed they were not friendly toward the namorians as they were hiding. She then looked at her unit;
"We must get into higher ground, I have a bad feeling what is going to happen. Let us hurry!" She said and the group started their sprint forward...

Hercine, now

Ann was standing a bit apart from Legatus Marcius as the greeks rode toward them. Ann was worried about the fact there were Greeks running wild, greeks were bad. She had studied history due of her family and thus she knew what kind of warriors there were among them.


“We shall save this bloodshed on our new land. Your best warrior shall face my best warrior, or he shall kill you either way.”

As she heard this, Ann zapped and rushed to Marcius;
"Don't get fooled by this Legatus, the greeks have some of the strongest men in the whole history of the earth. It would be crazy to accept this offer, it would be more effective to just strike them back and siege the city to give the other legions time to recover. And the group going into the Underworld would also have more time..." Ann said and looked at Marcius.

Azazeal849
01-30-2013, 05:42 PM
DUN MORIGA

"We need to do something, and fast!" he finished, looking back just in time to see the horde charge the defending line.

"What can we do?" Salvius asked, his jaw clenched as he voiced the rhetorical question. The Namorian glanced back at Koronus, and then down at the battle unfolding in the vast cavern, illuminated by cunningly-mined skylights and the thousands of torches glowing inside the city or in the hands of the orc attackers. Salvius could hear Gaea's warning echoing in his ears, but the veteran centurion didn't need a god to tell him that reaching Ech Zilidar through that army would be no easy task.

He exhaled slowly through his nose as he turned his gaze from the howling orcs to the beseiged defenders. "We still need to find a way down. The only way to Afragia from here is through Ech. But we can't stay. Our mission is to get to Tartarus and find the stones. That's also the best way we can help our allies down there."

The centurion glanced back at Nesara, who could theoretically overrule him, but the Afragian princess nodded in silent agreement.

"There, let us use that way to go around..." Numiera said, and pulled at Salvius' cape as she pointed towards a narrow pathway. He followed her gaze and quickly nodded.

"Good shout, half-blood." he grunted, sheathing his gladius and slinging his shield over one shoulder to leave his hands free for climbing. "Lets go."

He began to shimmy along the lip of the crater, while Altius the praetorian hung back to cover their rear.


* * * * * *

HERCINE

The advancing Greek cavalry finally reached the Namorians, and halted 50 metres away, just out of range of the Namorian pila. Their long spears were held at a vertical rest, and their bronze shields gleamed in the rising sun. Individually they were impressive, but the small size of the delegation caused some amusement among the ranks of the Fulminata.

"Where's the rest of your army, barbarian?" a legionary shouted from somewhere along the line.

"Shrapnel bombs?" Marcius heard one of the Dun Morigan gunners off to his right growl. The dwarven artillery had been wheeled into position along the front of the Namorian legion, interspaced between the cohorts.

"Loaded and ready, sir." one of the other gunners answered, chuckling softly.

Marcius noted that Castus and the other 5th legion survivors formed up to his left remained conspicuously silent, not joining in with the other legionaries' taunting.

For a few moments, nothing happened. And then Hercules nudged his horse forward from his bodyguard and called out in clear but heavily accented Namorian.

"We shall save this bloodshed on our new land. Your best warrior shall face my best warrior, or he shall kill you either way."

"Their new land?" Varinius grunted acidly, "Who does this bastard think he is?"

"He wants an honour duel?" Cassius added, the young tribune unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. Marcius could not blame him - although the ancient tradition was consecrated by Mars, the patron god of Namor, battles had not been determined in that fashion for centuries. It made no sense when the efficient Namorian war machine almost always held the advantage in a conventional war.

The legatus grunted. Spurred more by curiosity than anything else, he shouted back towards the Greek leader, without bothering to kick his horse forward into the ground between the two armies. "What are your terms of victory, Greek?"

If Hercules was bothered by the implicit insult, he did not let it show. "If your man wins, my army will depart this land. If my man wins, you and your legion will withdraw back across the border and leave us in peace."

Marcius grunted again. To his surprise, the offer was not entirely without merit. Even if the Namorians lost the duel, they would still be able to renew the campaign at a later date, allowing a temporary occupation while freeing up the Fulminata to wheel back to Dun Moriga or threatened Emor. Honour duels were of course sacred to Mars, and no Namorian would risk the war-god's wrath by going back on the agreed terms, but Hercules' terms did not preclude other legions besides the Fulminata from mounting a counterattack. It would also resolve the 18th legion's supply problem, and spare them a potentially gruelling siege.

But it was not enough for Marcius. Even the possibility of an outcome where he was forced to walk away without fighting, and leave a Namorian province in the hands of otherworld barbarians, was intolerable. The letter from his wife also coloured his decision. She had warned him of the supposed second greatest warrior of all time, and Marcius strongly suspected that the warrior in question was either the Greek leader or the champion of which he had spoken. In light of this, Marcius realised that the god Mars' earlier warning to stay away from Hercinia was most likely actually warning him away from this Greek warrior.

Without warning, Marcius felt Hate twitch in its scabbard. A wave of demonic energy pulsed off the sword, making the skin on Marcius' arms prickle.

"You don't think that I can't defeat whoever this upstart sends?" the sword hissed inside his mind. "Do you think I am as weak as you? Against their champion or against their whole army, it does not matter! Use me, and win without a fight!"

"Don't get fooled by this, legatus." said Ann, suddenly appearing at Marcius' side and mercifully jolting his attention away from the sword. "The Greeks have some of the strongest men in the whole history of the earth. It would be crazy to accept this offer. It would be more effective to just strike them back and siege the city to give the other legions time to recover. And the group going into the Underworld would also have more time..."

"Gods help me," Varinius growled, "But I agree with the Earthborn. We're not here to fight honour duels; we're here to win a war!"

"Agreed." Marcius said quietly, and nudged his new horse with his heels so that she trotted forward across the grass towards Hercules. His bodyguard Calvus flanked him on one side, and Silverwick fell into step on the other. Marcius straightened slightly as he rode, not wanting the burns that still pained him to affect his stature. Atop his horse and with his blue-crested helmet, his height alone made him instantly imposing. Nevertheless, Hercules matched him for sheer presence. Both the man and his horse stood completely, unnaturally still, with the perfect muscular control of a cobra waiting to strike. He gripped a long leaf-bladed spear and a round shield, painted with the emblem of a snarling lion, and a short sword hung at his waist. Behind the narrow T-slit of his tall, sloped helmet, his eyes were dark and intensely focused.

"I am Decius Marcius, of the emperor's 18th legion." Marcius told the statue-like Greek.

"I am Hercules, of Greece." the other replied, still not moving save for the whispered suggestion of lips behind his helmet slit.

"Your offer has nothing to benefit me, Hercules of Greece." Marcius said flatly. "I already hold all the advantages. I know that you don't have time to repair Hercinia's walls before my men reach the city. I know that as soon as my army appears at the gates, half the city will rise up against you. I know about your ability to cheat death. This time, when my men kill yours, I will have them throw the bodies down an abandoned mineshaft before they reanimate, and have my Dun Morigan engineers collapse the tunnel. You can enjoy your immortality buried under a thousand tonnes of shattered rock."

If Marcius had hoped that his knowledge of how to beat his enemy's greatest strength would faze Hercules, he was disappointed. The Greek leader said nothing, gazing steadily at Marcius. Calvus twitched, unnerved my the man's unblinking stare, while Silverwick growled low in his throat.

"And," Marcius finished, turning to sweep a meaningful gaze over the massed ranks of the legion behind him. "I know how many men you have in the city. I outnumber you."

Hercules turned his head, very slightly, to follow Marcius' gaze. "You may have the manpower, Namorian." he said, "But you do not have the men."

Marcius smiled slightly, determined to show only his strengths to this otherworldly opponent. "Men and swords are not the only weapons I have at my disposal. We have a priestess of Ra to match any of your mages. And Silverwick here has already proved that he can best a dragon."

The dire wolf flanking his horse snapped, baring its tusks.

"And as for my cannons, I'll be happy to demonstrate them to you right now - my gunners could use the target practice before they turn their artillery on your men in the city."

Marcius leaned forward slightly in his saddle. "Go back to your army, Hercules of Greece. If you want to meet us in the open field outside Hercinia then we will oblige you. If not, we will come for you at the city."

Hercules maintained his stance. The overall effect was one of profound indifference to the legatus' threats.

"Anything else?" he said mildly.

"Well," said Marcius, "You could surrender."

Death of Korzan
02-02-2013, 10:25 AM
Hercine
As Hercules and the remained Greek men galloped off on their horses, one stood behind. A shining bronze helmet sat atop his head, and a mane of blonde hair flicked out from underneath it, spewing from the tight sides of the metal protection. The man pulled from his back a long, Imperium staff and struck it into the ground with almost supernatural strength; on top of the staff sat a half melted Golden eagle, subject to the sharp electrifying strikes of Hercules and Heracles. Below the Eagle wafted a shredded Namorian Insignia, and on the Eagle the words “7th Legio Rapax.” The most shocking piece of this ruined Eagle was the impaled head of Legatus Scipio which sat behind the ruined tapestry like flag.

“You bloody bastard, I’ll ‘ave your head!” A single dwarf shouted from the ranks, pushing his comrade out of the way, the Dwarf man operated the cannon and shot a single ball at the warrior. Without breaking a sweat, the single Greek man swiftly drew his sword and stuck it out in front of his face at the full length his arm could manage. As he did this the sword collided with the cannon ball, and cleaved it in two. The two semi-circles of metal never managed to touch the Greek man and rolled off into the smooth grass of the Hercinian Plain, the warrior smiled.

“A gift from me.” Achilles turned and rode to catch up with his brothers, leaving the Dwarf and the rest of the Legion in shock, and some terror.

Combrogia
A Huge husky man put his finger to his lips as they looked out from the trees. The Earthborn were far too loud, not stealthy enough. In the silence of the ever growing forest it was easy to pick out their clunky weaponry and their armor from the shadows that surrounded them; those that were hunting them however were not hindered by such a thing. The rising body of a Viking warrior shook the branches around him as his head softly stroked the greenery.

Suddenly, a single silver arrow darted out of the shrubbery on the other side of the Earthborn Marines and hit the man straight in the throat; a war cry bellowed from the woods, and 14 men, a mixture between Vikings, Gaul’s and Pict’s ran out of the shadows, weapons flailing in the air. Another arrow darted out of the leaves and hit a Pict woman in the heart, knocking her down and killing her instantly, then the Marines began to open fire, not before two of them had their heads cleaved from their shoulders however.

Azazeal849
02-08-2013, 02:26 PM
HERCINE

Legatus Marcius' fist clenched around his horse's reins until his knuckles were white. His eyes remained fixed on Achilles' grisly parting gift as the man himself galloped away.

"Varinius." he said quietly to his choleric tribune, whose face was already a mask of livid rage. "Take that fucking thing down. Have the eagle placed among the baggage, and see legatus Scipio to a proper burial."

"Yes sir." Varinius answered, clearly having difficulty in framing his words through gritted teeth. He angrily gestured two legionaries forward, pointing towards the melted and blood-spattered standard.

"And," Marcius added after a moment. "Find out who the gun captain was who fired that shot. Even if it failed that was damned accurate. Make sure he gets prime placement when we get to Hercine, so he can get his revenge on Greeks who don't have magic swords to hide behind."

Marcius turned to look at his own men. Although he doubted more than ever now that he had seen the man he had been warned to avoid, he did not dare expose that fear in front of his men. They were already afraid, especially the 5th legion survivors who had already fought the Greeks. They needed confidence and bravado, to turn that fear into outrage so they could continue the fight. He nudged his horse and rode out slightly further in front of the line so that more of his men could see him.

"Our enemy," he shouted, letting his voice carry along the ranks of blue-clad legionaries, "Shows his true colours! And what has he shown? A cheap trick with an enchanted blade?"

The legatus hesitated, hating what he was about to do, and then steeled himself as he closed his hand around Hate and dragged the pulsing demon sword free of its scabbard. Whether he liked it or not, the cursed weapon had become a potent symbol of power to the legion. It had turned the tide of battle on several occasions, and they had all seen it. They didn't know of the whispers and the poison it worked upon his mind, only that it had defeated the Romans and the dragon.

"This blade," he said, holding the sword high for all to see, "Has defeated a sea-monster, crushed Septim's legions, and slain a dragon! I would wager its power against any magic sword these Greeks possess. What can they throw at us? Monsters? We have defeated them! Warriors? We have defeated them! The ability to come back from the dead? We will bury them so deep underground that they will wish that they could die! Has the enemy shown power? Has he shown anything that is deserving of our fear? No!"

He turned his horse round and began to walk the opposite way down the line, still holding aloft Hate.

"But he has shown dishonour, contempt, and barbarity!" Marcius spat the words as he pointed the demon blade towards the planted staff that Varinius' men were busy taking down. "These men are only worthy of your hatred! I for one will not let such men oppress the people of Hercine for a moment longer! We march for Hercinia, and we march now! Fulminata! Move out!"

Sporadic cheers rang out and the well-drilled legionaries began to file back into marching columns as Marcius lowered his arm, breathing heavily. He thrust the damned sword back into its sheath and cantered back towards his tribunes, waiting until he was too far away to notice before scrubbing his hand against his cloak, as if to remove an invisible stain imparted by gripping Hate. He noticed Ann standing quietly to one side and detoured towards her, pulling on the reins to check his horse into a slower walk.

"So, priestess." he said gruffly. "What are your thoughts on all of this?"

La Volpe
02-09-2013, 03:01 AM
Dun Morgia
~~~~

The ranger only nodded, following close behind Salvius and Numeria, with the others behind him. Kuronus looked out across the massive host attacking the city, still in shock that such a thing had formed so fast. But that was not his concern at the moment. No, he needed to help Salvius get to Tarturas as quickly as possible. That was the only way he could truly help Dun Morgia now... A low growl pushed its way out of his mouth, a dark reminder of the fact that time was against him. "Let us hurry, being out in the open like this with such a massive amount of enemies is not good." He called quietly ahead of himself.

~~~
Hercine
~~~

"Nice shot... To bad pretty boy had that sword though." laughed Zar from his vantage point. He was a fair distance away, but his bright green eyes saw the events that transpired with crystal clarity. His eyes narrowed as the leader of the remaining force pulled out a pulsing sword, just catching bits and pieces of the mans speech. "A Dragon? Now that would have been something to see!" He said, another burst of quiet laughter spilling from the assassins lips.

Checking his gear, and pulling his hood over his head, Zar left his view point, heading towards the army he'd been watching. It was time for him to be more then a simple observer, and to get his hands dirty. Though it would be safer for him to take the proper steps and talk to the perimeter guards before making his way to there leader, Zar didn't feel like wasting time. Hope this doesn't get me killed, Gods only know how embarrassing that'd be! He thought, stifling the chuckle that almost slipped out. There would be no more laughter until he'd reached the leader with the pulsing sword.

Epostle
02-11-2013, 03:21 PM
Gabriel

The numbers the enemy had were tremendous to say the least. Though to Gabriel, it looked like nothing more than a killing spree to him. Gabriel then began to pulled his sword from his back by unraveling the cloth that bound it to his wardrobe. Before this happened however, Numiera, being clever at this point, found a slight ledge that could lead to an escape without conflict. “Not bad, Numiera... not bad at all.” He said acknowledging her intellect. The funny part about this is the fact that Salvius thought that she was going to be nothing more than a burden upon them. This clearly shoved all of Salvius's words back into his mouth. Most importantly though, it would prevent Gabriel from potentially injuring the party he was with. He knows how violent his battles can become.

“I'll be the last to follow, just in case. I will warn you however to hurry up because I can't gaurantee your protection.” He said in monotone. Gabriel was wondering what that oily substance was that came out of Numiera, but for some reason, he felt something in her. Numiera's inner energies had went... wild in her for that moment. Gabriel began to think something wasn't right about her, though he could tell something was off about her from the start. One thing Gabriel had, it was a 6th sense, the power to feel others life force, no matter how feint. It was a gift he practiced to learn once he was stuck blind just so he could have a decent sense of direction. “Hurry up Salvius, otherwise your slowness will get us all killed.” He said to Salvius in calm monotone.


Shacorai

“What... power...” Shacorai thought to himself setting his eyes upon Achilles. The orb in the middle of the sword began to swirl with a dark energy. This energy began to spew out and envelope around Marcius. Hate also recognized the Priestess of Ra at this moment. “Damnable Priestess...” Shacorai has said to Marcius. “Damnable... legion... part of the ones who killed my brothers over a thousand years ago... Cicera... Aliara... Shaela... Chaaru...” Shacorai's anger began to rise, further powering Marcius. “Little does she know... my master still lives... though she is not the same Priestess... but holds the same power... Why is she here? Why are these Earthborn... here... ungrateful pieces of filth.”

The Bartender
02-12-2013, 11:53 AM
Dun Morgia

Numiera began to walk along the the edge and took out her dagger and used it to secure herself by hitting it into the mountain. She didn't like the fact there were so many creatures down in the walley so she wanted to get away as soon as possible, perfect would be to get far away before the fight would begin in order to protect her body.
About 100 meters away from them was the first garrison, it was empty and Numiera could see corpses leaning against the wall which made Numiera feel uneasy. She kept quiet and followed Salvius.

Hercine

"So, priestess." he said gruffly. "What are your thoughts on all of this?"
Ann was very worried, Hercules was the leader of the army... And who was even stronger than he? There were only few extremely strong men in the greece mythology, Hercules or Heracles, Perseus, Hektor and Paris... Achilles!
"Legatus, that was not an enchanted sword," She said as the Fulminata began to march toward the city, "That man is one of the strongest men who has ever liven or at least I think he is it. If that man is truly Achilles and I hope he isn't makes this mission a suicide. He cannot be wounded except by hitting his heel and the fact they can resurrect makes it even harder." Ann gave out her thoughts and then she looked at Marcius and noticed the sword in his hand;
"What is that sword that gives out such an evil aura, it seems to be a demonic sword with great strength, where did you get such a dangerous artifact?" Ann asked the Legatus while walking along his horse.

Emor

As the men rushed out of the forest with extreme high speed, Isabella and her group was totally suprised how fast they were and how they crossed over 500 meters in such a shorth time and even managed to kill two of them before they had even time to act properly.
"Don't waste ammunition, just keep them back and retreat!" Isabella shouted as she jumped out of the way of a huge sword and shot a short salve into the head of the norseman.
The 3 remaining Marines ran toward the tower no more far away and turned around from time to time in order to shoot at their enemies.
"Don't slow down, we must reach the tower as soon as possible!" Isabella shouted to her subordinates...

Setsa
02-12-2013, 03:06 PM
"Let us hurry, being out in the open like this with such a massive amount of enemies is not good."

Nesara was using her pristine balance to maneuver the path that was tedious in itself. Growling not from below within the fight but behind her made the princess speak up and break the silence of her voice after such time passed before them to bring the group to this point. "Such a throat rumbling seems to drive you pressing forward with haste more than the exposure to enemies... Hand in there my friend, keep to what over powers such raw power a little longer."

No the princess was kept a suspicion on what Koronus was. For her trying to figure it out wasn't high on her immediate list in comparison to just getting to the other side of the crater. Though there was no hiding the growl as men and beast does at times to show the wilder self within. Taking a momentary look down at the army not of their own who seemed hell bound on breaking in. She couldn't help but think how they could have even gotten there as the question was voiced earlier.

"There is a way to gather such troops here, well not here but nearby... As the caverns within this underworld riddle the land. Not so much big enough to house them all in one. But more of more of smaller size ones inter-connecting in a pattern that is suitable to cut short cut doorways to create their own set up..." Suddenly she thought of home....of how they created their own version of world beneath the sands. "By Ra....we must get to my lands soon....I fear if they took the time to gather here.... They may be doing the same over there..."

Azazeal849
02-12-2013, 06:53 PM
HERCINA

“That man is one of the strongest men who has ever lived or at least I think he is it. If that man is truly Achilles and I hope he isn't makes this mission a suicide. He cannot be wounded except by hitting his heel and the fact they can resurrect makes it even harder.”

“His heel?” Marcius repeated, frowning.

Ann looked at Marcius and noticed the sword in his hand.

“What is that sword that gives out such an evil aura, it seems to be a demonic sword with great strength, where did you get such a dangerous artefact?” Ann asked the Legatus while walking alongside his horse.

Marcius frowned again. Strangely enough, the priestess' detachment from his own men meant he could speak to her with relative candour - in spite of his inherent misgivings about the Earthborn.

“Mars appeared and handed it to me shortly before we arrived in Combrogia. I can only assume that dark times demand the use of dark powers. He did say, however, that the original owner would return for it, and when the time came I must give it back to them.”

He didn't say anything about how glad he would be when that day came. The owner could be the king of Tartarus himself and Marcius would still gladly press the sword back into the demon's hands, as much to be rid of the blade as to follow his patron god's order.

“We won't need demon swords when Salvius returns with the Stones of Alcamor.” Calvus put in as he rode alongside Marcius. The legatus' bodyguard shrugged his shoulders to redistribute his armour's weight while he thought. “Gods willing, they should have reached Dun Moriga by now. Do you think he'll find a way through to Tartarus?”

Marcius smiled tightly. “He's a friend of Mors, a brother of Fortuna, and a son of a bitch. He'll get the job done.”


* * * * * *

DUN MORIGA

“Would that be your lost Auxiliary?” Altius murmured as he and Salvius led their horses down off the ledge and towards the concealment of one of the city's satellite bastions. The two horses jolted forward, glad to be off the narrow causeway, but began to snort and toss their heads as they approached the bastion. Salvius could see what was upsetting the animals – everyone inside the bastion was dead, and a charnel-house reek of blood and excrement was thick in the air.

“We'll have to make a run for it from here to the side gate.” Salvius said, pointing towards a barred gatehouse that was still free from enemy attackers. It wouldn't be long before the orc horde began to sweep round the front wall to attack the other entrance points. Mounting his piebald mare, Salvius unslung his shield and gripped the horizontal handle inside the boss before winding the leather carrying strap around his arm and offering his other hand to Numiera.

“Up you get.” he said to the half-demon, wanting to keep a closer eye on her this time in case she tried to run off into the jaws of danger again.

Nearby, the remaining defenders retreated inside the city walls as the army of subterranean monsters surged forward. They thronged towards the gatehouse to smash the doors, while cannon portholes in the outer wall spat fire and thunder into the howling orcs.

“Go!” Salvius barked as soon as everyone was mounted, and urged his mare into a gallop across the exposed space between them and the walls of Ech Zilidar. Dwarven soldiers thronged the walls, and they looked down in astonishment as the small group made their move. A few even raised weapons.

“In the name of the Emperor!” Salvius bellowed up at them, “Open the gods-damn gate!”

Death of Korzan
02-12-2013, 09:20 PM
Near the Mages Guild

As the marine squadron ran fast along the ground, a voice sounded in their leaders head; the voice could have been mistaken from the representation of serenity. “Do not run.” The voice rang inside the head of all of the Earth-Born this time, and as more arrows darted out of the bush into the pursuing Viking’s, they hit the floor and fell to the Underworld. When the last of the Vikings fell dead, the voice spoke again. “Come closer, children of Nature.” As the Earth-Born stepped back a step, towards the foliage the arrow had come from, two figures emerged from hiding in a tree.

“Hello humans, we are the Druada.” Spoke one of the creatures; the Druada that spoke appeared the be female, she was tall and lean and had long and penta-spiked ears; her eyes was golden like an eagles and her skin was as pale as the finest Brood-mother Silk. She stood at 5’10 and held a golden Maple bow in her hands. She was the truly gorgeous and seemed to radiate light, however it was not her voice that had spoken into the minds of the Earth-Born. “My people are the Eldrani.”

The second Druada appeared to be male, although instead of being a beautiful elf-like being, this creature was instead a humanoid wasp. This creature was covered head to toe in chitin-plates, natural armor that could defend against a powerful swing of a steel axe. Two large insect eyes stuck into the creatures head and a pair of antennae adorned with flowers and spiraled twigs circled around them. The creatures body was Orange and Black and were the chinks in the Chitin were, tufts of ‘fur’ sprouted out of them; two large translucent wings adorned the giant wasp’s back, fluttering noisily every minute or so. “We are the Cicerin” The Insectoid spoke, his voice buzzed into the ears of the humans, but it still wasn’t the serene voice that spoke.

However, there was a deep rumbling as the tree that the two Druada had emerged from slowly uprooted itself, two huge trunks hit the floor, the ‘trees’ arms. Pushing itself up, the creature revealed its legs, and then spoke.
“I, am a Seplengais, guardian and member of the forest. Return to Odin’s Grotto with us and we shall enlighten you on what you have missed, and what we must have done.” And with that, the two Druada leapt on the Seplengais back before the Seplengais slowly walked off, knowing the humans would follow.

The Mages Guild

As the Namorian scouts continued to search around the mages tower, a large contingency of ‘Namorian’ troops marched up in formation down the road. As they neared the Mages Tower, they stopped and a single man on a horse came forward, however he was different, his armor was red. Septim stopped in front of the mages tower and in full view of those who stood outside it. An arrow flew and impacted with one of the men leading the column of Roman prisoners. The column erupted in cheers and shouts of glee as the Romans-disguised-as-Namorians marched upon the Mages Tower, circling it.

“We have you completely surrounded, drop your weapons and come out peacefully.” Septim yelled, a grin on his face.

Dun Moriga

“Pull up the gates, quickly!” One of the Dwarven generals shouted on top of the wall. “Pull them up!” The clicking of the gates sounded, being largely drowned out by the inhuman screeching that the Orcs were giving off. The gates opened slightly enough for the quest party to have enough space to get inside; once inside however, they were bombarded by poised swords and axes reading to chop them limb from limb.

“What do yee want Namorians, you can see that your bloody legions did nothing against this scum and their Warlord!” An anonymous dwarf cried. “What good will you lot do?!” A troll roared and surged forward from the army and breaking its chains. The creature ran for the door but was hit dead on by a few cannonballs. The creature fell to the ground and the army went silent for a moment.

Suddenly out of nowhere a huge barbaric roar rose up from the Orcs as they began to surge forward on the gates, various catapults hit the walls of the Ech and knocked Dwarven stonework apart. “Come on Namorians, we ain’t got all day, let’s get off the frontlines and talk a bit!” By now the other dwarves had left, firing Cannons and primitive flintlock rifles at the Orc army, doing next to nothing to the writhing beast it was.

Hercine

As the Greeks returned to Hercinia, they instantly mobilized the troops. Various lines of Greek men began to cover the walls of the city, Hercules and Heracles stood atop the damaged wall, ready to launch lightning bolt after lightning bolt at the Namorian army, breaking their form and slaying their men; Achilles, Perseus and Theseus stood with the men, mingled in between ranks so as they would not be made an instant target.

The Namorians were not far, therefore it was easy to see their formation. As the Namorians grew nearer, Hercules began to yell down at the Greeks:

“We will not falter, we will not cry. We will not live, and we will not die!” Hercules rose his arm in pride, as did the rest of the Greek army, cheering and roaring in approval; some began to throw insults at the Namorian Legion, but Achilles remained silent, his eyes locked on a single target from afar.

Azazeal849
02-13-2013, 10:06 PM
THE MAGES' GUILD

Centurion Attius of the 1st legion swung his staff of office back and forth, then clasped it in both hands behind his back, trying and failing to hide his unease.

Around him were a knot of Namorian guards and 50 prisoners with their arms tied to heavy wooden crossbeams. The prisoners were Roman – some of the defeated soldiers that had provided Emor with a much-needed boost to morale when they were marched through the streets. Now the emperor Galen Claudius had decreed that 50 of the prisoners were to be crucified, and hung up as a warning to all others who threatened his Imperium. Attius merely obeyed; it wasn't his place to question the laying down of such a brutal punishment, but he couldn't help wondering why the emperor had chosen the Mages' Guild as the site of execution. Most likely it was a calculated move, casting an even darker shadow over the demon-ravaged tower and providing little incentive for anyone to linger. The emperor had been looking to discredit the Mages' Guild ever since he heard the rumours that some were defecting to the south, and now that the Guild had been destroyed, he seemed to be making a conscious effort to see that the independent college of magic was not refounded any time soon. Attius reckoned that if the Guild was ever to be rebuilt it would be in a new location, possibly within Emor itself where the emperor could keep an eye on it.

The number of prisoners to be executed also seemed significant. 500 Romans had been captured, and now 50 were to die; the implication was one of decimation. It was almost as if the emperor was treating them as Namorian traitors rather than a foreign invader, with a corresponding punishment. The cruel and humiliating death he had chosen for them showed how deeply the emperor had been angered by these dark mirrors of his own soldiers.

It all reeked of bad business, and as a man who liked to use the simple hierarchy of the military to keep his mind blessedly far from politics, Attius was uneasy. But what unnerved him more was the Roman prisoners. They must have had an idea of what was about to happen to them, but every one of them was stoically silent. They didn't even pray. They seemed totally calm. What kind of men were these who simply didn't fear an imminent and gruesome death?

Attius swallowed hard, and twisted his hands around his vine staff once again.

“Alright.” he barked harshly, “Let's get this over with.”

No sooner had he said it then there was a shout of warning, and two horsemen in dust-streaked armour and weathered cloaks came galloping round the outer wall.

“Halt!” Attius barked at them, his right hand going to the hilt of his gladius. “Who goes there!”

“Quintus Venatus, of the Fulminata!” the leading horseman shouted back.

“The Fulminata?” Attius repeated, “What's happened?”

“Varus and I were sent back to shadow an enemy force. They're not far from here, you have to...” The scout called Quintus paused and pushed back the rim of his helmet as he got a better look at the prisoners. “Are those Romans?”

“They are.” Attius frowned. “The emperor's orders. What of it?”

“They can't be killed.” Quintus said rapidly, “They come back to life.”

Attius scoffed at the idea. “Say what? And regardless, I have my orders. I stand for the Imperium and the emperor, as do you.”

“With respect, sir.” Quintus said as he wheeled his horse around and kicked it onto the road towards Emor, “I know you know what you stand for, but you have no idea what you're up against! And they're right behind u-”

An arrow suddenly flew out of nowhere, striking Quintus hard enough to knock him from his horse. The horse reared and bolted, and as the scout lay there gasping with the arrow still protruding from his banded armour, the previously stoic prisoners erupted in cheers and shouts of glee.

A large contingent of ‘Namorian’ troops marched up in formation, down the road. As they neared the Mages' Guild, they stopped and a single man on a horse came forward; however he was different, his armour was red. Septim stopped in front of the mages' tower and in full view of those who stood outside it.

“We have you completely surrounded, drop your weapons and come out peacefully.” Septim yelled, a grin on his face.

The Namorian guards whirled in panic, swords out as their eyes flitted between the prisoners and the newcomers who wore their armour but were cloaked in faded red. Centurion Attius, of the emperor's own 1st legion, took a step forward. His mind reeling, he licked his dry lips and approached the mounted leader.

“Who in Mars' name are you?” he asked.

La Volpe
02-14-2013, 03:11 AM
~Dun Morgia~

Kuronus only nodded at Nesara, returning her comment with only strained silence. He was slipping up, and they all were starting to notice. But that didn't matter, all that mattered was getting across the open expanse they now stood at. There mad dash was met with the swords and weapons of the dwarven guards, which was understandable do to the circumstances. "We need cannons like that Salvius... It'd save us a lot of trouble." The ranger said, unable to hold back a laugh at his own statement.


~Hercine~

Zar weaved his way through the defensive lines, seeming nothing more then a shadow on the ground. He cursed under his breath as he caught a glimpse of the leader, but he cursed due to the fact of the priestess next to him. Well that will make this a bit harder. he thought as he ducked away seconds before a group of soldiers passed by where he was. Then suddenly, the army was moving. With little options left, Zar did the only thing he could think of. Zar stood up and walked over to Marcius in plain view. "That would be a one in a million shot, harder then that in massive battle. You'd need someone with the skill of a god with a bow to pull off something like that." Zar said, pulling his hood back and mask down, reveling a mess of black hair, a lightly tanned face with little blemish, a miscellaneous grin, and bright emerald green eyes. I hope this works! Zar prayed in his mind, for if it didn't, he doubted he'd last long.

Azazeal849
02-14-2013, 03:38 PM
HERCINE, A FEW HOURS AGO

"That would be a one in a million shot, harder than that in a massive battle. You'd need someone with the skill of a god with a bow to pull off something like that."

Behind Marcius and Ann, Zar pulled his hood back and his mask down, revealing a mess of black hair, a lightly tanned face with little blemish, and miscellaneous grin, and bright emerald-green eyes. The horsemen who had been following Marcius and Ann at a respectful distance immediately spurred forward, surrounding the man.

"Wait." Marcius snapped at them. He had noticed that Silverwick, loping along beside his horse, had not sprung to attack as he would have done towards a hostile intruder. Marcius had had two unexpected visitations from agents of fate in the last few days - one from the god Mars, and one from the mysterious Hunter. He had a feeling that this was a third.

"Lower your weapons." he said softly, meeting eyes with his bodyguard Calvus who was looking back at him from the circle, his sword drawn towards the newcomer. Marcius nudged his horse towards them, Silverwick at his side.

"And who might you be?" he asked Zar, in a neutral tone. "A friend of the Hunter?"


* * * * * *

DUN MORIGA, NOW

"We need cannons like that Salvius....it'd save us a lot of trouble." the ranger said, unable to hold back a laugh at his own statement.

"Well you can carry the damn things then!" Salvius grinned back as they rode clear towards the gate. "We can't all be as tall as you Combrogi bastards!"

His tight smile vanished as the gates opened slightly, enough for the quest party to have enough space to get inside; once in, they were bombarded by poised swords and axes ready to chop them limb from limb.

"What do yee want Namorians, you can see that your bloody legions did nothing against this scum and their Warlord!" an anonymous dwarf cried. "What good will you lot do!?"

Salvius responded to the show of wary hostility by straightening his back and fixing the dwarf with his most authoritative stare. On horseback, he was easily three times taller than the Dun Morigans.

"Centurion Varro Salvius of the 18th legion, and Altius of the emperor's praetorian guard, escorting princess Nesara of Afragia. This is Koronus, Numiera and Gabriel, our Auxilaries. Lower your weapons."

"Come on Namorians, we ain't got all day, let's get off the frontlines and talk a bit!"

Salvius glanced at Nesara for confirmation, then back at the dwarf, and nodded. Then he swung himself out of his mare's saddle, and helped Numiera down.

"Stay close." he growled to the half-blood as he took hold of his horse's reins and began to lead her after the dwarf.

La Volpe
02-15-2013, 08:54 PM
Hercine, Few hours ago

Zar looked at the massive Wolf next to the man, then at the men surrounding him. His eyes fell back onto his target as the man asked him a question. "The Hunter..." Zar whispered his eyes drifting to the ground. Looking back at the man, Zar's eyes hardened, "My name is Zar Stormwraith, and I do not know this Hunter you speak of.... But I am the son of The Huntress... Though she'd not admit it." He said, a small smile playing across his lips. "And what is your name?" He asked back, the smile slipping away.

Azazeal849
02-18-2013, 11:20 PM
HERCINE, A FEW HOURS AGO

"My name is Zar Stormwraith, and I do not know this Hunter you speak of.... But I am the son of The Huntress... Though she'd not admit it." He said, a small smile playing across his lips.

“An emissary of Diana, eh?” said Marcius levelly, using the Namorian name for Artemis. “If the hunter goddess is stepping in, then I'm glad it's on our side and not the enemy's.”

He held out a hand and gently gestured downwards, causing the legionaries surrounding Zar to back off and sheath their swords.

"And what is your name?" Zar asked back, the smile slipping away.

“Decius Marcius, commander of the 18th legion.” the legatus answered. “And we march to liberate Hercine.” He turned from Zar to his praefectus castrorum, and addressed the senior centurion in an authoritative tone. “Praefectus, I assume that all the siege equipment I ordered readied yesterday is in order?”

“Yes sir.” the legion's third in command answered smartly.

Marcius' face creased in a wolfish smile. “Then you may do the honours, praefectus.”

The praefectus saluted, and turned to the legion soldiers who had stalled at the sudden appearance of Zar. “Fulminata! March!” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pf9AaTV4-yw)


* * * * * *

HERCINE, NOW

The midday sun beat down on the city of Hercinia, glistening off the waves that lapped at the docks on the city's western edge. It also glinted off the armour and weapons of the formidable Namorian war machine that now surrounded the city in a ring of blue-cloaked steel. The standard practice for a legion mounting a siege was as methodical as it was efficient, digging a perimeter of ditches, palisades and traps to completely isolate the defenders before undermining their earthworks and water supplies. The Fulminata however had not done any of these things. The legion had marched into range just over an hour ago, and in that hour they had unfolded, like a well-oiled machine, into what was unmistakably an attack formation.

The Namorian strategy was brutal and direct – made necessary by the impracticality of blockading the city's ports and the legion's own limited supplies, and made possible by the damage wrought a few days ago by the Greeks themselves. Although the district-gutting fires set by the invaders had burned themselves out, the once-formidable walls were in ruins; spilling piles of broken stone into the defensive ditch ringing the city. The walls were completely breached in four places – two wide holes in the southern wall, a smaller one in the north, and the last in the eastern wall near the main gate, although the gate itself remained reasonably intact. Marcius had drawn up his attacking cohorts facing those gaping holes in the defence, while the ballistae from the legion's wagon train were arrayed 300 metres from the walls and the Dun Morigan cannon half as far again behind. The main attack would be against the south wall, while the threats to the east and north would draw some of the already-overstretched defenders away from the crucial fight.

As the Namorians grew nearer, Hercules began to yell down at the Greeks:

“We will not falter, we will not cry. We will not live, and we will not die!” Hercules rose his arm in pride, as did the rest of the Greek army, cheering and roaring in approval; some began to throw insults at the Namorian Legion, but Achilles remained silent, his eyes locked on a single target from afar.

Legatus Marcius scanned the damaged defences through his dwarven telescope. The Greeks had soldiers arrayed along the length of the breached walls, and in the breaches themselves they had formed hedges of spearmen several ranks deep. Marcius now thought he understood Castus' wariness of the Greek formations: the bristling rows of spearpoints would be a formidable obstacle at the best of times, never mind when the attacking Namorians had to struggle over the uneven carpet of broken stones that formed a crude ramp outside each breach. With their flanks defended by the impassable edges of the breaches, and their comrades ready to offer fire from the walls above, the Greeks' position was formidable. And so the first order of business was to reduce it.

“Artillery may fire when ready.” the legatus said softly.

Tribune Varinius kicked his horse back towards the poised gun line and, in his typically brusque manner, shouted: “Alright you bastards! Let them have it!”

The ballistae fired first, torsion springs whipping back like snakes to hurl heavy iron-tipped bolts towards the walls. This was followed by the thunderous roar of the six cannons, and the echoing report served as a signal to the three cannons each on the north and east sides to begin their own bombardment. The dwarven gunners were firing shrapnel shells, and setting the fuzes was a matter of trial and error. Some burst early, scattering their lead balls harmlessly into the ditch short of the wall. The dwarves hauled the guns back into position, carefully marked with stone wedges, reloaded and fired again. This time Marcius saw a cloud of red misting up from the nearest breach in the walls, and the wall of Greek soldiers shuddered as if buffeted by a strong wind. The line of spears faltered as men went down, and all the while the ballistae kept up their own whistling fire. It was quieter, but no less lethal, as even at this range the bolts struck with enough accuracy to pluck individual soldiers from the walls or gouge furrows through the men in the breaches, who were now hunkering down in an attempt to avoid the sudden hurricane of fire. Marcius distinctly saw the long black shaft of a ballista bolt thunk and rebound off the wall, right before a dwarven shell impacted just above it to shear off a damaged crenellation and rip apart the Greek archer behind. The shell burst a moment later to send the dismembered shreds of the man raining out of sight along with the shrapnel.

Marcius rode forward with his command staff as Varinius cantered to the head of 2nd cohort, his horse rearing up to paw the air as the tribune thrust his sword towards the twin breaches in the city walls. The leading centuries rippled as blue shields were raised and the men bunched up into testudo formation, artillery still howling over their heads as they advanced towards the defences.

The Bartender
02-21-2013, 04:37 PM
Near Mages Guild

Isabella and the remainings of her group looked at the strange trio who had saved them from the berserkers. Then se turned to her group;
"Okey, you two go to our embassy and ask for help, I will go with these strange persons and check what they want from us." Isabella said and received two scared nods and the two marines turned around toward the city. Isabella grabbed the guns of the dead marines and then she ran after the strange creatures into the forest.

Hercine

"My name is Zar Stormwraith, and I do not know this Hunter you speak of.... But I am the son of The Huntress... Though she'd not admit it." He said, a small smile playing across his lips.
A son of Artemis? This planet is totally crazy. Unbelivable that such a world even exists... Ann sighed and then she followed Marcius toward the city. Only thing she was wrried in this moment was that the sun was already going down and she didn't wish to fight in dark. She decided to stay in the rear and just use some light blessings to protect the Namorians from the Greeks.
“Fulminata! March!” Shouted Marcius and Ann began to chant her blessings in order to be as useful as possible even without Talos, as long as she could use her powers...

Death of Korzan
02-24-2013, 06:35 PM
Hercinia, Hercine

Hercules grimaced at the advancing machine; the walls of their city were breached from its conquest from just days ago, and they would be hard pressed to hold back the Namorians. Holding his hand up with an open fist, Hercules clenched and lowered it sharply towards his waist. Heracles, who was at his side, did the same; two lightning bolts shot down from the sky, one of them damaging a Dwarven Cannon beyond repair and the other killing 22 advancing men.

Achilles stood in the front of the Greek ranks, watching the Namorians move towards their crumbled walls. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xSEb4SM0N0) A huge bolt flew at him and Achilles smoothly maneuvered his body around it like water around a stone. Looking over to his right and left, he found Perseus and Theseus watching him, waiting for his orders. Achilles nodded and the three of them moved out in formation and began to sprint towards the advancing lines of the Namorians. A Cannon fired and Achilles moved out of the steel ball’s way. Pulling a spear off of his back, Achilles then threw it and impaled the Dwarf who had fired the cannon through the belly. Men in the Greek lines began to chant ‘Achilles, Achilles, Achilles…’ whilst men in the Namorian lines began to gasp, a few even ran, deserting the 18th. Achilles grinned.

The three hadn’t even broken a sweat as they flew into the shields of the Fulminata, cracking steel and bones like twigs. Achilles created a full circle of bodies around him as his swords flew and cut down man upon man. As the first group of men they had encountered slowly whittled away, leaving just dead bodies, Achilles found himself separated from Perseus and Theseus. Looking behind him, Achilles noted the constant lightning strikes from his two leaders as they destroyed 2 more Dwarven Cannon’s, leaving only three left operational. Achilles turned back to the advancing legion and flew back into combat, carving a straight path towards Decius Marcius.

The Mages Guild

“Who in Mars’ name are you?” the Namorian man said to Septim, who responded with a sharp sneer and the drawing of his sword.

“I am Legate Septim of the Roman legions on Eternum. We have come to offer…assistance with your empire, you would be most unwise to stand against us, for as you can see, we have you outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and outgunned.” Septim dropped his grin and raised his sword instead. “I’ll be taking you all as prisoners, release my men. Now.”

Dun Moriga

The stout dwarf led the quest party through a large besieged area of the Ech; rubble and dust coated the ground in a film of decay and destruction, painting the picture of how the war was currently going underground. “They came from deep below where we thought impossible for anything to exist. They swarmed around our homes and killed our women and children for barbaric sport. They’re nothing but animals.” The dwarf man winced as he heard the screams of one of his brethren as they fell off of the wall that defended the last Dwarven bastion.

“We held Azulfa for 12 days before they broke her gates, the crystal palace was smashed into sand and buried underneath Obsidian and Orcish filth. Their very stench aggravates my bones; the bloody broodmothers are doing nothing as well, but what would you expect from a bunch of freaks living in solitude from the rest of the world.”

As they slowly left the damaged part of the Ech, they moved through another grander entrance and into the forge-palace, the seat of the King of the Dwarves. “Come now, the old bastard’ll be wanting words with yee’.”

Azazeal849
02-25-2013, 01:15 PM
HERCINIA, NOW

Hercules grimaced at the advancing machine. Holding his hand up with an open fist, he clenched it and lowered it sharply towards his waist. Heracles, who was at his side, did the same. There was a brief flicker of light and a bang to rival the cannon fire as a bolt of lightning dropped from the clear sky into the centre of one of the advancing testudos. The century immediately disintegrated as every man in the tight formation went down, and the formations either side checked in shock. The struck Namorians who were still alive were twitching or trying to crawl, some missing armour or clothing where the force of the blast had torn them clean off.

"Go forward!" Varinius was shouting from among the leading cohorts. "Go forward!"

The surviving vanguard approached the deep ditch in front of the walls, and the tight formations became ragged as men were forced to climb the steep inner slope. Men began to stumble and fall as the archers on the battlements found gaps in the shield wall. Ladder parties rushed forward from the centre of the formations, and all the while ballista bolts whistled overhead in an attempt to suppress the defenders.

The legionaries approaching the breach had an easier time, the rubble from the collapsed walls forming a natural bridge across the ditch. Struggling through a steady shower of arrows, the Namorians at the western breach paused to hurl their pila at the Greek phalanx that had reformed in the breach, rising up as the cannons ceased fire to avoid hitting their own men. The attackers at the east breach staggered under the Greek missiles and hunkered down behind their shields, forgoing the javelin volley and instead charging home to meet the Greeks as quickly as possible. The shield wall thumped into the Greek spear points, and then was forced to halt as the men tried to find a way past the long spears. Some hacked at the shafts with their gladii, trying to strike off the iron points. The men behind them raised their shields again as arrows and stones continued to rain down on the pinned formation, and the Greeks barring the breach thrust their spears forward to keep the Namorians back. A legionary in the first rank, whose shield had been pierced and splintered, dropped the useless weapon and grabbed the offender's spear in both hands, trying to wrestle it out of the Greek's hold. As the frontline ground to a halt, the Namorians behind either pressed forward with ladders or waited anxiously for the order to advance. Ann's protective spells were doing something, as a second volley of lightning bolts veered away from the ranked legionaries, but instead grounded itself among the Fulminata artillery, destroying a cannon and flash-burning its crew.

The men at the west-side breach were doing better as the leading Namorians began to drive a wedge into a gap their javelins had created, helped by the slackening of fire as the Greeks on the walls turned to meet the ladder parties scrambling up the inner ditch. Ladders went up, were pushed away, and resited, legionaries fighting to hold them steady and then swarm up as fast as possible to make them too heavy to push back. Legionaries climbed one-handed with shields high above their heads, some slipping and falling under a barrage of arrows and rocks. A man reached the top only to be met by a Greek soldier who ripped his shield out of his hands and then rammed a spear down his throat, causing him to fall and knock off several of the men behind him. The first Namorian to gain the walls was a blue-crested centurion who, still gripping the ladder, bashed his shield into the face of a Greek archer and sent him plunging off the parapet. He leaped up and turned to guard the top, his optio following behind to turn the other way and protect his back. The Greeks were formidable, but long spears were less useful on the narrow walls where they couldn't form a proper phalanx. Some drew short shorts and laid into the Namorians, while others formed guard points two abreast near any of the stairways, and the lightly-armed archers and peltasts struggled to get out of the way of the heavier infantry.

Legatus Marcius watched from the rear, surrounded by his bodyguard. Even to his experienced eye, the obscuring rubble and battlements made it difficult to see which side had the advantage as the fighting intensified. The worn-out Namorians at the eastern breach were falling back, gladii and improvised pila spears making little impression on the Greek pikes. Marcius kicked his horse forward and called to Varinius to order the second line forward. Atop a section of wall that was still free from Namorian ladders, Hercules picked out the Namorian leader, and raised his fist.

A furious bolt of lightning sent Marcius' entire bodyguard crashing to the ground, horses screaming and rolling over. Marcius himself would have been at the centre of the destruction, had Silverwick not barrelled into his horse and sent it tumbling to one side. Men flailed, injured horses kicked, and acrid smoke curled from those killed by the blast. In spite of the destruction, most of the Namorian legion hadn't even realised what had happened.

Achilles saw his chance. Standing in front of the Greek ranks and watching the Namorians move towards their crumbled walls, he found Perseus and Theseus watching him from the battlements either side, waiting for his orders. Achilles nodded, and the three of them moved out of formation. Perseus split the helmet of the legionary who was trying to climb onto his section of the wall, and as he fell away, heaved at the placed ladder with impossible strength. The ladder tipped backwards and fell, taking a dozen Namorians with it as Perseus seized the top and rode it down, landing with a crash among the press of men in the ditch below. Theseus skidded down the broken side of the breach towards Achilles and together the two of them burst forward from the phalanx and began to sprint towards the advancing second line of the Namorians. A cannon fired and Achilles moved out of the steel ball's way. Pulling a spear off his back, Achilles threw it, an impossible throw that carried a full 300 metres and impaled the dwarf who had fired the cannon through the belly.

Men in the Greek lines began to chant "Achilles, Achilles, Achilles..."

Perseus tore his way out of the ditch and joined the other two, his sword red. Ahead of the three, the lead Namorian century had formed a wedge to renew the attack on the breach. They marched forward towards the three-man counterattack, locking shields against what they must have thought a crazed attempt at suicide. Achilles was about to prove them wrong.

The three hadn't even broken a sweat as they flew into the shields of the Fulminata, spears swinging in wide arcs to crack steel and bones like twigs. They dived into the wedge and Achilles created a full circle of bodies around him as his swords flew and cut down man upon man. Men in the Namorian formation began to gasp; a few even ran. As the first group of men they had encountered whittled away, leaving just dead bodies, Achilles found himself separated from Perseus and Theseus. Looking behind him, Achilles noted the constant lightning strikes from his two leaders as they destroyed two more dwarven cannons, leaving only three left operational on the southern side. Achilles turned back to the advancing legion and flew back into combat, carving a straight path towards Decius Marcius.

The legion commander was still just getting to his feet, looking up to see the corridor of reeling and fleeing men in the centre of the legion's checkerboard formation. Silverwick was struggling to stand, having taken the brunt of the lightning strike in an attempt to shield Marcius, and the only man ready to fight was his bodyguard Calvus, who was running towards Marcius after seeing the commander fall. He stopped and turned just in time to see the unstoppable Achilles running across the clear ground straight towards him. Several men at the back of the century that Achilles had just scythed through broke away and began to run after him towards the isolated legatus, but the only one now standing between him and his target was Calvus.

To his credit, the bodyguard showed no fear as he braced to meet Achilles' charge, and Marcius saw him thrust his shield forward in a perfect block towards Achilles' oncoming spear. The iron boss cracked under the impact but Calvus twisted his wrist and let the force of the blow slide past along the outside of his shield, lunging forward with his gladius inside Achilles' guard. It was a perfect stroke, and it should have been deadly - Achilles' own momentum throwing him onto the sword point before he could change direction. But somehow Achilles moved, faster than the eye could follow, spinning himself around the outside of Calvus shield and a sword leaping into his off hand to strike the Namorian in the back. The back of Calvus' lorica segmentata splintered under the blow, sending the bodyguard crashing to his knees. Marcius was wide-eyed in shock as his best warrior fell to the single stroke. Achilles advanced towards him at a steady run, moving with a deadly, graceful ease. Every movement was measured, every muscle sliding neatly into place, everything about him optimised for the efficient application of violence. Knowing that mortal weapons were no longer enough to stop this man, Marcius reached for his sword belt and, in desperation, closed his grip around Hate.


* * * * * *

EMOR, NOW

"Did daddy say anything about us?" Aurelia asked as the family sat down for their midday meal.

Lycinia scooped her youngest daughter up in her arms and balanced her on her knee. "As a matter of fact he did. Here, see for yourself."

Holding the girl steady with her left arm, she used her right to fold over the top half of the parchment and show the other half to Aurelia. The girl turned her large brown eyes to the page and read aloud, hesitantly.

"Tell the children that I'm proud of them, and I hope that they're not using my absence as an excuse to m...mis..."

"Misbehave." said Lycinia, stroking her daughter's hair. "And that means you, Marcus."

Marcus, who had been vigorously flicking bread at his sister Diana until Lycinia snapped at him to stop, turned towards his mother with a guilty look on his face. "So is dad killing lots of Crocolykes?"

"It isn't a Crocolyke rebellion this time, Marcus." Lycinia told her son, "It's...something else."

"Like what?"

"We're still not sure. But your father is doing his best to keep us and the rest of Emor safe."

"Will he be back for Diana's birthday?" Marcus asked, throwing another crumb of bread at his sister as he mentioned her name. Diana enthusiastically returned fire.

"Stop it, the pair of you." Lycinia snapped. "If you won't eat it then I'll take it away and you can both go hungry."

Both children immediately stopped throwing. Their mother never made threats to them that she did not intend to carry out.

"I don't know." Lycinia said after a moment of trepid silence. "But if he can get back I'm sure he will. Things are difficult at the moment."

As her children went back to their food, Lycinia's eyes lingered on the first paragraph of her husband's letter, the one she had folded out of her youngest daughter's sight.

My dearest Lycinia,

I have sent scouts back to warn the city, but I cannot be sure that they will arrive in time. The men we fight are not ordinary humans. When killed, they come back to life within hours. I am taking steps to deal with this, but it is too late for me to turn the legion round and intercept the Roman army that we previously defeated. Their leader's stated objective was Emor, and you have to warn the emperor that they are coming and, more importantly, what he is dealing with. I would not trust any other with this information, but I trust you.

Lycinia folded away the letter and stood up. She needed to warn the emperor yes, but she also needed to know where exactly the Romans were, and in what force. She needed someone who knew how to sneak past an army's forward scouts without being detected.

"Attaxius." she said, calling the slave to her side as soon as she was out of her childrens' earshot. "Where the hell is Ovidius?"


* * * * * *

The door to the small house on Via Forum banged back against the wall as Ovidius and Afragia stumbled in, joined at the lips. The slave dropped her shopping basket on the floor, sweat glistening on her dark skin as the spy picked her up and pushed her down onto a straw bed in the corner of the room.

"Wait..." she panted as Ovidius' hands found her tunic and pushed it up around her waist. "Wait." she said again, a little more forcefully.

Ovidius paused. "What's the matter? I won't tell domina if you don't."

Afragia shook her head. "And if I end up pregnant?"

Ovidius paused again, but rallied a moment later with a sly smile. "I can think of a way around that." he said, pressing his lips to her navel and then kissing his way downward.

Afragia gasped.

"Sorry." Ovidius said ten minutes later when they lay side by side caressing each others hands, "I forgot that domina would figure it out pretty quickly if you got pregnant."

"It's not that." Afragia said as she turned towards him, pulling his arm around her waist. "Domina probably wouldn't mind. It's just that I don't want any children of mine to be born slaves."

"Ah." said Ovidius as he understood. Under Namorian law, any children born to slaves also became the property of their owner. He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow. "You know, Suriyana," he said slowly, "I could ask domina for your hand. Buy your freedom myself."

Afragia laughed. "One time and we're talking paid freedom and marriage? You can't just buy affection, master Ovidius." Her expression softened slightly as she added, "Thank you for the offer, Aulus. But I'd feel more comfortable saving and buying my own freedom rather than being sold a second time."

Ovidius opened his mouth, as if to protest that he wasn't buying her, but changed his mind and nodded instead. "I can understand that. My dad bought his freedom before I was born too." He got up from the bed and poured water into a clay cup, before opening a basket and producing a couple of redfruit.

"Do you want something to eat before we head back?"

Afragia smiled mockingly. "You're trying to buy my affection with fruit now?"

"Of course not. There's also meat."

Afragia's laugh was cut short by a commotion outside, punctuated by the sound of hoofbeats. Ovidius pushed back the fabric curtain hanging over the street-side window and peered curiously out. Two horsemen in Fulminata legion livery were trying to forge a path through a gathering crowd.

"Step aside!" one of them barked. "We have an important message, for the emperor himself!"

"Who are the army approaching from the south?" a middle-aged woman demanded from the shelter of a shop awning.

"Our news is for the emperor's ear's only!" the scout replied, "Step aside!"

"Army?" said Afragia in alarm, jumping up from the bed and straightening her tunic. The southern invasion force couldn't have even reached the Norse realm yet, and the remains of the Combrogia legion had already fallen back to the city after the defeat in the forests.

"Mars' teeth..." Ovidius cursed quietly, and took Afragia by the hand, "Come on, lets get to the walls and have a look."

They pushed their way through confused and agitated crowds to the city's south wall. The town watch were trying and failing to keep people back, and Ovidius and Afragia joined the mass of people who were cramming the parapets. Out south towards the fallen Mages' Guild, a thick dust haze rose in the wake of a vast army marching towards the city. They were too many and too distant to count, but the regimented blocks of soldiers were numerous enough to fill 3 or 4 legions. The formations were a perfect facsimile of a Namorian army, which should have been a comfort - but Ovidius knew that Maximus and the southern force wouldn't have turned back without sending word, and no other Namorian detachment active across the provinces was this big. Ovidius could make out little detail from the advancing army, except the sun glinting off armour, and the fact that their cloaks appeared to be faded red rather than Namorian blue.

"Romans!" Afragia gasped, recognising the red heraldry from the prisoners that had been paraded through the streets mere days ago.

No sooner had she said it, then a forgotten memory flashed to prominence in Ovidius' mind.

"The Romans quelled the demon invasion of Earth." Iris' voice echoed in his head, as he saw an army of twisted hellspawn crash into a line of red-cloaked troops. "They gave their lives and the stability of their empire to save the universe. You will need their allegiance to successfully defend against the coming storm."

Ovidius snapped back to reality as the panicked cry of "Romans!" was taken up by others along the walls.

"We need their allegiance..." Ovidius whispered. The Romans were their enemies, but he needed to change that before it was too late. He snapped round to look at Afragia. "I need to talk to domina Marci, now!"

La Volpe
02-26-2013, 11:24 PM
Hercinia, Now

Zar watched in utter disbelief as Greeks and Namorians clashed against one another. He stood off to the side, shifting among the ranks of troops, not straying far from Marcius though. Then suddenly, Zar found himself hurled through the air, and then suddenly crashing to the ground among several other soldiers. His vision was filled with colorful splotches, and his ears rang as though a cannon had been fired right next to him.
"What in Tarturas was that!" He yelled, not missing how far away his voice sounded. No one answered him, but the assassins eyes found the answer easy enough. A massive circle of bodies covered the area around where Marcius was.

Achilles advanced towards Marcius at a steady run, moving with a deadly, graceful ease. Every movement was measured, every muscle sliding neatly into place, everything about him optimised for the efficient application of violence. Zar stumbled to his feet as he saw the legend charge towards Marcius, his hand quickly pulling his bow from his back. Mother... If your listening... Aid me this one time... I may be a bastard child... But your child I am all the same. He prayed, slowly pulling out one of the few arrows that hand managed to stay in his quiver, and that hadn't snapped on impact of his fall. Zar opened his eyes, slowly letting out a breath. He'd have one, maybe two shots if he was lucky. He was going to make them count.


Dun Moriga


The stout dwarf led the quest party through a large besieged area of the Ech; rubble and dust coated the ground in a film of decay and destruction, painting the picture of how the war was currently going underground. “They came from deep below where we thought impossible for anything to exist. They swarmed around our homes and killed our women and children for barbaric sport. They’re nothing but animals.” The dwarf man winced as he heard the screams of one of his brethren as they fell off of the wall that defended the last Dwarven bastion.

“We held Azulfa for 12 days before they broke her gates, the crystal palace was smashed into sand and buried underneath Obsidian and Orcish filth. Their very stench aggravates my bones; the bloody broodmothers are doing nothing as well, but what would you expect from a bunch of freaks living in solitude from the rest of the world.”

As they slowly left the damaged part of the Ech, they moved through another grander entrance and into the forge-palace, the seat of the King of the Dwarves. “Come now, the old bastard’ll be wanting words with yee’.” Kuronus felt his heart fall slightly as the dwarf talked. The grim news weighed heavy on the ranges shoulders, he should have been out preventing something like this... But there was nothing he could do now. This knowledge only added strength to his new cause. Getting to Tarturas, and finding the stones. The smells filling the area were growing more precise, and details crisper. Not a good sign... He thought to himself. But some how a grim smile came to his face. Maybe the beast will be more useful then I thought. He thought, a small laugh rumbling out of him.

Death of Korzan
03-06-2013, 11:08 PM
Hercinia, Hercine

"Decius Marcius...I take it you didn't take very kindly to my gift." Achilles slowed to a light trot, swinging his bronze blade and slowly circling around the Namorian man. Achilles muscles were poised, ready to leap at the man and finish him off quickly. "So, Number 7. War has told me a lot about you."

Achilles turned and spread his legs so as his feet were as wide as his shoulders, a rash move for a swordsmen, but Achilles knew that Decius would not be able to even strike him in this position, let alone harm him. "I hope you realize that you have sent your precious bodyguard against the most powerful mortal that has existed." Achilles narrowed his eyes as he looked at Decius, scanning his face for any emotions that would betray his next moves. "One that even I could not best. One that even the war gods could not best."

“Stay back!” Marcius barked at the legionaries who were now running towards them, as well as the survivors from his staff and even a few of Cassius' horsemen who had spotted the danger and wheeled round to help. He couldn't fault their sense of duty, but none of them could help against Achilles, and he didn't want any more brave men throwing their lives away. Calvus was still on the ground, twitching feebly; too close to Achilles for any of the others to risk running forward to drag him away.
Marcius held Hate towards Achilles with a steady arm, despite the unbalanced sword's weight. He gauged the distance between the two of them carefully, making sure that he was just out of reach of the spear Achilles held in his shield hand. He carefully avoided dropping his gaze to the Greek warrior's heel – not just to keep his knowledge of Achilles' only weakness a secret, but also because he didn't dare take his eyes off the man and give him an opening to attack.

“I don't think Salvius has ever met the war gods.” he said slowly, anger goading him into the impiety. “But knowing him, if he did then he'd probably give them a damn good fight. He's incredibly troublesome to kill.”
He was halfway through the last word when Achilles lunged forward a step, thrusting with his spear. His speed was beyond lightning fast; no ordinary human could have reacted in time. The tip would have torn out Marcius' throat had Hate not twitched upwards in his hand, slashing of its own accord through the spear shaft and sending the bronze head along with the first two feet of the shaft spinning harmlessly away. His own reactions belatedly catching up, Marcius adjusted his distance to put himself back and just out of striking range.
“As am I.” he added, in a voice that didn't betray his rising heart rate and the still-painful dragon fire burns on his chest.
In his hands, Hate pulsed with a black light.

"Interesting choice of sword Marcius..." Achilles drew his own sword; it was a generic type of Greek sword, but in Achilles' hands it made itself more malevolent and deadly than the Demon Blade could ever be. "Come out and speak to me, creature of Tartarus, before I slay you and your container."

The battle continued to rage on in the background; men dying, walls falling, lightning bolts hitting the groups of men, siege weapons firing. The Namorians had pushed through various groups of Greek men, but the Greek's were still holding fast and men were coming back to life from behind to slay the Namorians. Some groups of Namorians found themselves completely flanked on all sides before they were butchered; the battle was going badly.

“Ahhh… he knows… but does he truly know…”Shacorai said in Marcius’s head. “Does he truly know who I am… I…” Shacorai was beginning to get angry, being mocked by a mere mortal. No matter the power, Shacorai was not one to be level headed when provoked. “Marcius you pathetic whelp! KILL HIM!!! MAKE HIM SUFFER!!!” Shacorai’s energies were beginning to grow at an abrupt rate. The energies began to seep out of the sword and surround Marcius’ body as if it were granted Marcius a black shield that cover his body. As well as granting him a shield, it was also giving a surprising boost to Marcius’ overall performance. Shacorai's screams were so strong that they could be heard coming out of the sword, as well as his hatred energy. “ACHILLES!!!” Shacorai screamed as his powers were actually creating minor gust of wind, blowing back in Marcius’ face. “I… AM… THE WORLD-ENDER!!! I WILL BE YOUR DEATH AS I DRINK YOUR BLOOD!!!”

Achilles brushed off these threats and watched as Marcius was bolstered by the Demon's power. "War told me of you...Shacorai." Achilles grinned, planning to provoke the demon further. "How does it feel to lose your precious place in the greatest of all time...to a mortal?"

“You ask how it feels Achilles… how about you ask the fallen empire that stood within Eden… they’ll tell you a great tale…of my destruction.” The sword then began to change form a bit. Going from a single edged blade to a dual edge, emanating its dark powers throughout Marcius, taking in all that he knew of Marcius. “Marcius, bring him to his knees and learn my power… so the arrogant wretch can learn his place…” Shacorai said angrily as Marcius’ right eye began to change in color as well as the pupil shaping differently. The eye was now colored an orange-red color as the pupil became like a cat’s eye. “Marcius, I will lend you my aid and help direct your movements from now on in this fight… he will suffer…”


* * * * * *

Meanwhile, Chaaru was wondering the woods aimlessly. “Where the fuck is this place? How am I going to find anything around this heaping pile of shit planet?” He was bitterly angry, mainly the fact of losing his sword and part of his power had somewhat to do with it, but being lost made it worse. Then out of nowhere, Chaaru got an energy reading from a distance not too far away. The feeling was familiar but different. He could feel the sword… Hate. Chaaru finally cracked a smile as he thought to himself “Finally, there he is. Gabriel is near as long as I can sense Hate… but at the same time… what is this other scent I feel within my body?” Chaaru said as he set a higher pace running towards the battlefield.


* * * * * *

Wounded men were crawling, dying men were crying out for help, and those who were already dead formed a gruesome barrier in front of the battered but unyielding Greek formations.

Varinius had been unhorsed in the fighting, and he now stood in amongst one of the forward units, hacking furiously at a Greek casualty who was trying to rise for a second time. Something was wrong – this time the Greeks were reanimating after mere minutes instead of the hours it had taken them previously. The following units in the legion's checkerboard formation were being forced to stop and fight resurrecting Greeks instead of pressing forward, and although lightning and arrows had stopped spitting from above as more Namorian troops gained the walls and forced the defenders above into hand-to-hand combat, they were now locked in a brutal meat grinder on the narrow parapet. Varinius saw his fellow tribune Cassius, still with one arm in a sling, send his light cavalry sweeping along the line yet again to scatter and hack down the rising Greeks before they could regain formation. With the men at the breaches needing urgent reinforcements, the attack was rapidly losing momentum.

“Fucking dismember them!” Varinius roared at the top of his voice, striking the struggling Greek soldier's head clean off his shoulders in a vain attempt to make the wretch stay down. “Take their fucking weapons!”

Even as he said it, the hard-bitten officer could feel the first edges of desperation creeping into his anger. The men at the breach fell back to make room for another two centuries, the horsemen threading through the battle line regrouped as Cassius wheeled his men round for another charge, and none of the Namorians fighting desperately on the front line saw the single combat playing out behind them.

As the Namorian forces made a huge effort in order to chop the limbs off of the Greek men, more of them died. By this point a huge sum of the legion had fallen to the Greek defenses, either by Lightning, injury or death. However, a noise from over the horizon echoed and brought confusion to the hearts of all the men on the battlefield although it was unheard by Achilles or Marcius.

From the distance a huge black banner with a swampy green triangle drawn onto its front rose overhead. Underneath the banner was a huge and terrifying force; a force of Crocolykes, easily numbering half of the remaining forces of the Fulminata sprinted from the distance, crude blades in hand and drooling from their mouths. Among their green ranks stood a single orange Crocolyke, at 8 foot tall he was easy to see, even above the heads of the huge reptilians. He leapt forwards and sheathed his sword before moving like a crocodile at extreme speed towards the walls of Hercinia.

Various animalistic howls filled the air and a horn rang in the distance. It was a dirty and tuneless sound that ended in a guttural rumble from the horn. At the end of the note, the Crocolykes closest to the walls leapt at huge heights into the air and onto the walls. Their claws dug into the stonework and they began to scale the walls.

The first of the creatures leapt over into the fighting, and as the first Namorian to encounter them readied his blade and said his prayers, he was surprised to be ignored; instead the Crocolyke leapt at a nearby Greek formation, smashing into it.

The Crocolykes began to encircle the walls and leap at them, climbing them even when the defenses that surrounded the walls had not been broken. Cheers broke out in the ranks of the Namorians; even whilst they were being flanked
heavily their morale had been boosted.

Varinius grinned before returning back to battle. ‘Gods damn it, if there was ever a moment that I hated the rebel slaves, it’s not now. Gods damn it…’


* * * * * *

"I already know of Eden. That is old news Shacorai." Achilles flicked his sword around his back, stretching his limbs.
"And bolstering Marcius will do no good, I will still slay you both, you are no match for me." Achilles leapt forward, sword pointed at the ready. "Let's dance."

Marcius turned Achilles' blade aside and countered with a slash that nearly opened up the Greek's forearm, but as Achilles jumped clear Marcius did not press his advantage.

“No!” the Legatus snarled, his muscles tensing up as he tried to resist the corrupted power that the sword was pouring into him. Achilles took his chance and lunged forward with the edge of his crescent shield, following through with a spinning slash of his sword. Both swept through a blurred afterimage of Marcius as the Legatus ducked and countered with a lightning-fast uppercut. Again Achilles jumped back, arms spread wide as the black contrail of Hate's wake scythed the air a harmless six inches from his body.

“No!” Marcius shouted again, still fighting against the full manifestation of the demon's power even as he closed the distance and attacked. Achilles weaved round the first blow, parried the second, and hacked his sword into Marcius' wrist as the third swept back round. But instead of shearing through, the bronze sword rebounded off the black aura sheathing Marcius' arm, scattering black sparks in its wake.

Stung by the hit, Shacorai took matters into its own hands. At first, Achilles mind was alright and in sync, when suddenly, his vision turned to the worst. “Achilles… this war is ours…who are you to decide how fate is decided all because you are considered the most powerful mortal?” Shacorai started to portray different images in Achilles mind as well as gathering intelligence. “Who is it you fear, Achilles… who is it who makes you look like a worm” The image currently being displayed was the River of Styx and Achilles being dipped in it. Also in the river was another that was brought out from the back of Achilles mind. The image was distorted by the enemy, but Achilles was also accompanied by Guan Yu and Attila the Hun. “Impossible… that is your fate Achilles… I know not of this… distorted image….” Shacorai was referring to the something that they were about to fight, but the image flashed forward to another time.”

In this image, Achilles was bleeding and weak. No longer surrounded by the other 2 people, Achilles was then waking up to an empire, being burned as its buildings crumbled before him. Black fire surrounded the area as screams of warriors were falling left and right and the shrieks of aberrations tearing the warriors apart. Further though, there was a demon standing with its back to Achilles. “So you have come… but you are too late Achilles…” The demon slowly turned around, seeming like an eternity, revealing its face as Shacorai, laughing.

Shacorai's mental assault disoriented Achilles just enough to give Marcius an opening, and he drove forward with a fluid chain of stabs and cuts. Both men were reeling as they fought the demon – Marcius to retain control of his body, Achilles to retain control of his mind. The Greek hero was bleeding from his nose and tear-ducts, but he somehow managed to fend off Marcius' strikes; even though, for the first time, they were forcing him to give ground. He kept his left leg back, protecting his vulnerable heel, but just as he took a third step backwards and braced to counterattack, a thunderbolt of something white hot shot up his leg and wrapped tight around his chest. It took the Greek hero a moment to realize that it was pain – genuine pain of a kind he hadn't felt since his last death. It was coming from his heel: as cold as a knife blade, as sharp as one's edge.

It was Calvus, who had dragged himself towards the dueling warriors on one arm leaving a trail of blood bright on the grass. In his hand was his thick-bladed pugio dagger, which he had stabbed through Achilles' ankle with enough force for the tip to burst through the other side. The young bodyguard's face was a contorted mask of pain, but even as he coughed blood onto the grass he ripped the dagger back, sawing through the Greek hero's heel tendon.

Achilles looked up, eyes wide with fear...no...fury and for the second time in his life, pain. He squinted his eyes and in one fell swoop he banished Shacorai from his mind, the corrupted presence had done nothing but open his mind and tear his defense to shreds; now the demon was gone, and the only one it was causing harm to was Marcius.

The Namorian commander was now fully shrouded behind Shacorai's dark aura, and it was unclear if he had even noticed his bodyguard's final intervention. Achilles threw the Legatus back with a bash of his shield and attempted to stand but his right leg would not rise; he fell again. Placing his hands on the ground,
Achilles pressed himself upwards again and managed to stand. He took one pain contorted step from the felled Bodyguard, who now lay on the ground silent; Achilles swung towards Marcius, it was a clumsy swing for Achilles, but would have been enough to put Marcius to death if the Demon-Blade had not been there to be involved; Achilles had to end this quickly. The Demon Blade countered just as quickly as Achilles, who then turned to strike again and again, each blow being blocked effectively, but sometimes sluggishly. Marcius was still resisting Shacorai even though the demon's power was his best hope of winning the fight, while Shacorai itself was seeking greater control in an attempt to stop Achilles from killing them both. Just like Achilles, Marcius was desperate to end the fight before the demon could win. He drove forward, in an attempt to force Achilles' weight back onto his crippled foot. The Legatos' face was frozen somewhere between anger and pain, and blood was seeping from his changed right eye.

Both warriors fought for ground but neither of them gave any. However, something else entered his mind, another presence...another powerful presence.

"So... it is you who wields Hate." Chaaru said as he was slowly walking through the battlefield, being completely oblivious to the fighting going on around him. "I see lots of fun going on around here, but the sad part about it is, I'm not involved. That kind of hurts my feelings." Chaaru said sarcastically as he was smiling and clasping his hands together. As Chaaru inched closer, he couldn't help to feel as if he were challenging powerful opponents. This was making him rather excited because he was finally being challenged by something worthy. "So, it would be rude of me to not ask of your names... so what are they...." Char’s eyes grew wide as he asked and awaited the response.

"Get back!" Marcius snarled, spitting blood behind his black halo. It was unclear if he was talking to Chaaru or to the demon forcing its way into his head as he lunged another desperate stab at Achilles' throat.

Achilles looked towards the fresh voice, his sword arm still swinging frantically and accurately, easily parrying the attempt at his throat. "You are not one to ask for my name creature." Achilles identified the male as not human. "Unless your name is Chaaru...then you have no place on this plain of war. Either way I shall cut you down where you stand."

“Get back… cut me down where I stand…?” Chaaru began laughing a sadistically evil laugh, being distorted and demonic sounding. “Achilles, I’m flattered that you know my name… really!!! I’m surprised that a bitch boy like you and your lover there haven’t killed each other yet. What’s wrong? Is love too much in the air for you bitches?” Chaaru was mocking them while standing with his arms crossed and a sadistic smile upon his face. “As you realize, I’m weaponless, but then again… I am a weapon.” He said as something began crawling underneath Char’s facial skin. “So if you want me… come and get me… but be warned though, I don’t play nice!” Chaaru then unfolded his arms and began to slowly and carelessly walk towards both of the men, seeing what their reactions are going to be.

During this time Shacorai sensed Chaaru and his energies. “Quite the monster has come Marcius… don’t let your guard down whelp. Use your anger… tear everything in your path apart… Chaaru has been nothing more than a thorn in my side… mainly because he is dangerous.” Shacorai was warning Marcius as a hand made of energy formed out of the sword and punch Achilles harshly across his body, making Achilles bounce off.

Achilles flew backwards from the force of the energy blow; although it caused him no pain, it infuriated him, his sword fluttered out of his hand and Achilles landed on one of his knees. Looking around for his weapon, Achilles noticed the bodyguard that he had slain looking at him, smiling; the light in the man's eyes was fading, but his grin was not.

Achilles grit his teeth in rage and looked the opposite way, seeing his bronze weapon amongst the bodies of his enemies. Reaching out and grabbing it, Achilles then rose from the ground avoiding the possibility of putting pressure on his crippled heel.

"I am glad that you think that you are so proficient in combat Chaaru." Achilles re-entered the fight, taking slow pained steps towards the trio, as the Dark elf strode towards Marcius and Achilles. "War told me about you...'bitch boy'." Achilles grit his teeth at this degrading name. "He also told me that I could kill you with one hand tied behind my back if I so wished; so come, face me, Number 13."

The circle of Namorian soldiers hung back uncertainly, unsure if Chaaru was an ordained part of this gods-driven battle. With a growl, something huge and lupine shunted them aside. It was Silverwick, limping slightly on one paw and with his grey fur singed by the lightning strike, but the dire wolf's tusks were bared as he stalked into the impromptu arena and put himself between Marcius and the others. Marcius himself had fallen to one knee, driving Hate's tip into the earth as he tried to clamp down on and regulate Shacorai's rising power. Silverwick growled through his fangs, hackles raised.

Zar stood off to the side, somehow unnoticed in this grand melee that had somehow spilled out in front of him. Each fighter's movements were lightning fast, each posed to kill the other if one of them were to slip in the slightest. And then when things were beyond incredible, a new combatant made his way into the fray? What is a dark elf doing here? Zar thought. Zar had laxed the draw slightly, in awe of the spectacle before him. But not for long, as Silverwick crashed his way into the already unbelievable battle.

The Hunter and I, the giant wolf rumbled, in a voice that manifested directly inside Chaaru's head, Have had enough of you trash-talking, cock-waving Earthborn interfering in the business of the gods. Be gone!
The beast's amber eyes flicked briefly towards Zar, still standing back with his bow in his hands. Now would be a great time, son of Artemis.

Achilles' eyes widened and he leapt forward, his body smashing into the giant wolf causing a lupine yelp to emerge from the injured body of the animal. Madness broke out as the Namorians who were holding back sprinted forward, leaving Zar and a few others alone.

The words echoed through the assassins head, and he did not hesitate. Taulmaril rose in a flash, "May Tartarus take you!" He roared as he released the taunt bow string, and suddenly a blinding flash of silver flew from the bow, arcane lightning crawling across the arrow as it flew towards Achilles.

The arrow buried itself deep and hard into the already injured leg of Achilles; a primal roar emerged from his throat, one that did not seem human but was more in tune with that of the Dragon or the Giant Sea-Monster. The Battle halted for a second as people turned to look. In the heat of the moment Silverwick clamped his jaws around Achilles' throat with an iron grip; blood dripped off of the Dire Wolf's snout and neck where various sword wounds and what appeared to be claw wounds lay; Achilles' had been fighting the wolf hand to hand.

The Horse sized wolf spun like a crocodile and arose from the floor, Achilles' still screaming body in his jaws. With a flick of his head he launched the surprisingly heavy body across the field of battle; he landed next to the fallen Calvus. As Achilles' stopped screaming, he turned to the broken body of the guard, and noticed his ever present smile.

Calvus blinked once, and then he and Achilles died.

Meanwhile, men surrounded the Dark Elf; they fell as he swung his fists, his obscene strength crushing ribs and stopping hearts. They continued to come however; they refused to give in to a creature not of this world. The Battle was still at a standstill though; there was utter silence for a moment.

"Achilles is defeated!" one of the Fulminata legionaries shouted, and then again, his voice joined by others as the cry swept forward to hearten the Namorians and crush the morale of the Greeks. "Achilles is defeated!"
Marcius didn't hear them. Shacorai's power streamed out of the sword to shudder up his arm and pulse across his mind in black waves, bringing with it images from the demon's own memory. Marcius' own thoughts were overwhelmed with blurred visions of destruction - cities burning, bodies piled in the streets, the Lotus empire brought low by one demon's might. The demon howled across his mind, threatening to drown him in an unrelenting barrage of hate, hate, hate. Marcius tasted blood in his mouth and he gritted his teeth as he tried desperately to hold on to his sense of self. He pushed back against the demon with memories of his own: the sense of pride as his legion arrayed before him, cheering their emperor; the sight of the sun rising over his villa in the center of Emor; his wife's face as she...

The image of Lycinia and their three children burst into his mind with sudden, startling clarity, and it pushed the demon back enough for Marcius to see past the hate and register his own body again. He was on his knees, and he could feel his right hand still grasping the hilt of the shuddering demon sword. He tried to release it, but his fingers remained locked around the grip, nerves overloaded with the dark electricity coursing through them. He couldn't move it. His entire right arm was on fire, feeling as if the flesh itself was peeling back and burning away while his charred bones cooked from the inside out.

Hate. Hate. Hate.

He could still feel his left hand. It was at his sword belt. Under his fingertips he could feel the smooth, engraved pommel of his other sword. His sword, not the curse from Mars that was trying to burn him alive. He closed his hand around it, and dragged it up, raking the iron blade across the inside of his immobilized wrist. The bright flash of pain as the tendons in his wrist parted and snapped was just a footnote in the sea of fire boiling up his arm. The sword dropped from his nerveless fingers, searing the grass around it black in a spreading pulse.

Marcius heard Shacorai's voice screaming in fury. He screamed too, a sound that began in his mind, and left his mouth as a torrent of black slime that splattered across the grass and was immediately sucked back into the vibrating demon sword. Marcius didn't see the black aura bleed away from his body and evanesce into the stinking air. He didn't hear his men shouting his name as they ran forward. Bleeding from his wrist and his right eye, he folded sideways and collapsed on the scorched grass next to Calvus and Achilles.

Epostle
03-07-2013, 05:40 PM
Chaaru

Chaaru was surrounded by men of both parties. They came at Chaaru with swords, maces, axes, and any other war instrument they could conjure, yet it all proved futile. Chaaru only laughed as bodies began to hit the ground around him and die in a puddle of blood. Some of Chaaru’s strikes would be punches, and others would be slices due to his hand wear, ripping through the pathetic flesh of those men. Screams could be heard as one by one they were being slaughtered. Eventually, there were no men close enough to Chaaru that could attack him without running into the other enemies. And there he laid, the man who somehow got Hate.

A voice began to talk in Chaaru’s head. Kronos’s voice was very distinguishable compared to the other demons. It actually had a feel of power behind it rather than malice. “That is the man I need killed Chaaru. That man is named Marcius… you know what you must do. If you refuse to kill him, I will kill you in turn whelp…” Chaaru was in a bit of a bind. He didn’t owe an allegiance to either party and it showed when both parties began to attack him. This was going to be a tricky kill, but it was all necessary. The sad part about this was that Marcius was unconscious. There wasn’t even going to be a fight, but rather than a cheap assassination. Then again, it was the only way he was going to get his sword back as well as his power.

Chaaru then walked on top and over the bodies of the men that were slain during the battle and over towards Marcius, slowly. Chaaru was savoring the moment when he would actually kill Marcius and gain his powers back. When this happens, then he would us his powers to take vengeance on Hothian once he found him again. “Ahhhh… it saddens me, Marcius… you’re a vulnerable as a new born babe at this point… yet… I’m going to find a little enjoyment out of this…” He said as his saliva built up in his mouth. It had been a while since Chaaru ate anything, let alone a powerful warrior such as Marcius. As Chaaru approached the body, he kicked Marcius over onto his back. As Chaaru smiled, he drew his hand back and unfolded his fist. He was going to pierce Marcius through the heart rather than eat him alive. As the hand further drew back, so did Chaaru’s sadistic smile. “It’s time, Marcius…”

Shacorai

As Shacorai fell from Marcius’s hand, Shacorai began screaming out of anger. “NO, I WAS SO DAMNED CLOSE!!!” He said as he hit the ground. Unable to move or generate energy off of Marcius anymore, the sword laid motionless and lifeless on the ground. Shacorai for now did not have a master and was awaiting his new master. Though a smile was brought across his face as he said “Atleast Achilles fell… proving that I am the most resilient warrior…” He then went into a slumber for a while until he was needed again.

The Bartender
03-07-2013, 05:48 PM
Hercine

Ann jumped out of the group of Namorian legionnaires and crashed into Perseus as the greeks were frontal attacking the Namorians. Her huge katana gave out a high and piercing ringing as it smashed into the large shield of the greek. The shield had a polished surface and Ann could see her own image from it: The Shield of Aegis, the weapon which saved him from the Medusa.
"I will entertain you while your friends play with the Namorians; Perseus, son of Zeus, MSlayer of Medusa and founder of Mycenae." Ann said and pulled of two strings on her sleeves and removed them, revealing her arm covered in feathers. Perseus eyes pinned at her;
"A godly messenger? Those who try to oppose us will be defeated even if they are under godly protection!" Said the muscular man with short brown hair and pulled his bronze sword. Then he rushed toward Ann who grabbed her katana with both hands and parrid the strike. Perseus used his shield to release his sword from the lock and attacked Ann again.
A empty area appeared around the two as the Namorians and Greeks tried to avoid the swings of Ann's long sword. It was almost impossible to follow their movements as they moved so quickly. Sparks flew as metal stroke metal while the two warriors with equal skills seemed to dance a deadly dance. Ann's red dress seemed like a fire as it flowed around her body and made it hard for Perseus to say where her legs were as it covered them completely unlikeyl Ann who especially targetted Perseus legs in order to make him unable to move.

---

Dun Moriga

Numiera looked around herself in the last garrison of the mountain kingdom of Dun Moriga. Many wounded dwarf were laying around while being treated by few medics. It was sad and for Numiera also very unpleasant to see wounded persons as her just being in the near could cause much harm. But what interested her most was a big crossbow-like construct near them. Two dwarfs were trying to repair it but they didn't seem to be very optimistic, the bow which was used to fire the bolts (more like small spears) was broken from the stem and they couldn't repair it without the needed materials so they walked away and left the ballista. Numiera saw her moment to come and slipped away from the others and grabbed the large bow as well as the quiver full of spears, then she ran to the others after leaving the old bow to the ballista and swinging the new one over her shoulder and binding the quiver on her lover back.
The bow was heavy but it was possible for her to use it and the large, ornamented jew bow with iron plating would be good use for her...

Azazeal849
03-07-2013, 10:10 PM
HERCINIA. NOW

As the Crocolykes began to spill over the walls and throw themselves at the defenders, the beleagured Greeks turned and began to fall back to avoid being surrounded. At Hercules' order, they began to regroup and form a new phalanx across the main street leading from the gate, a phalanx that quickly became a circle as they turned to meet the Crocolykes swarming in from from all directions.

As the defenders melted away from the walls, the tired and blood-streaked Namorians pulled together their ragged formations and began to advance into the city.

“Forward!” Varinius shouted in a hoarse voice, still commanding on foot at the front of one of the leading centuries. “Watch those bloody corpses!”

Legionaries streamed off to either side, and Greek soldiers returning to life in the streets found themselves with gladii to their necks before they could even stand.

From the centre of their final defensive formation, Hercules and his brother watched as Namorian cavalry thundered from the alleyways around them, led by a young but animated man with his arm in a sling. Crocolykes hissed and snapped at them from all sides, too many for even Hercules' lightning powers to defeat, waiting for the order from their orange-skinned leader. Marching up the main thoroughfare towards them were a column of Namorian legionaries, with a blue-crested tribune walking ahead of them. The man's armour was dented and splashed with blood, but his rough-hewn face was set in an expression of utter determination. He held up an arm and the soldiers following him halted – right feet braced, shields thrust forward, swords and javelins waiting behind.

Varinius pointed his red-stained sword towards the surviving Greeks.

“Achilles has fallen, and you are surrounded.” he barked. “Now would be time to surrender.”


* * * * * *

As Chaaru smiled, he drew his hand back and unfolded his fist. He was going to pierce Marcius through the heart rather than eat him alive. As the hand further drew back, so did Chaaru’s sadistic smile. “It’s time, Marcius…”

Silverwick smashed into the dark elf from behind, his teeth closing around Chaaru's raised arm. As the force of the impact sent both of them skidding across the ground, the dire wolf's jaws snapped together and severed Chaaru's arm at the shoulder. He was left gripping the bloody limb as Chaaru tumbled away.

You Earthborn. Silverwick said as he spat the arm onto the ground and leapt after the fallen warrior with a howl. If you're going to murder a defenceless man then at least get on with it and don't stand there gloating!


* * * * * *

Tribune Castus, formerly of the Legio Hercina, tugged on his reins so sharply that his horse reared up, pawing the air. He had ridden as fast as he could towards the fight, where now only dead and wounded men lay in Chaaru's wake. He had spotted a figure in distinctive Hellenic armour lying among the bodies.

“It's Achilles!” he shouted to the men following him, his tone half anger at the man who had destroyed both of the Hercinian legions, and half disbelief to see him lying defeated among the dead. “Bind him! Before he reanimates!”

Slipping from the saddle, he belatedly recognised the lightning bolt clasp on the cloak of a man who lay unmoving next to Achilles.

“Legatus!” he exclaimed. Marcius had lost his helmet during the battle, and without the distinctive crest and with his face turned away from Castus the tribune had not recognised him. Blood was smeared around the legion commander's right eye, and more blood was oozing from his wrist, but the battered lorica banding his chest rose and fell with weak breathing.

“You two!” Castus snapped, “Get the commander to a medicus, now!”

Castus and his two chosen men lifted the unconscious Marcius and began to bear him away, while four more men carried Achilles. One of the legionaries picked up Marcius' ceremonial sword, but Hate lay forgotten on the grass as the men limped away.

The Bartender
03-12-2013, 01:03 PM
Ann's and Perseus's fight was heating up as the Croolykes started to swarm the city but the two warriors didn't care at all as the bronze hit against the empowered titanium sword. Ann didn't understand how the sword could withstand the hits of her sword as bronze was so much softer than her high-tech sword. She decided to finish the fight quickly but the huge shield of Perseus made it hard to cut him down as the shield seemed to be hard as diamond, propably it had something to do with the sight of Gorgon but she didn't know sure.
Ra give me strength. Ann thought and incresed her speed even more and now it started to become hard to see anything else than the red flashes of her dress and the sparks as the katana hit the shield or sword. Perseus was as fast as Ann and they began to move in bigger and bigger circles and clashed against eachother as their movements became faster and faster.
Then as quick as the strikes were, they stopped and the blade of Perseus Gladius hit the ground, sliced into pieces. He fell on his knees, shoulder bleeding strongly. He removed his helmet and the shield and looked at Ann;
"I am inferior to you, messenger of the god. My life now lays in your hands." He said and looked toward the ground. At the same time a loud shout informed all Namorians and Greeks about the defeat of Achilles. This made Perseus pale and Ann smiled;
"I don't have to kill you, I don't even know how so I just ask you, Perseus, son of Zeus, will you lay down your arms and surrender? If you do I will promise you won't be harmed and I will do whatever I can in order to protect your men as well." Ann said while gathering her sleeves and putting them back on their places...

Epostle
03-13-2013, 06:36 PM
Chaaru

"Very well then... you damned mut!!!" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zv9zDC5HaKs) Chaaru’s eyes grew wider with a sickening smile on his face as his arm instantaneously grew back. Chaaru was not happy with his arm being torn off again, but atleast this time he was going to have fun with it. “I’m in a very fucking foul mood!!!” Chaaru then lifted his hand in the air straight and send a tendril out of his hand and wrapped it around Silverwick’s hand. He then pulled Silverwick off of his feet and flung him towards himself effortlessly. After Silverwick was close enough, using the force of the pull, he punch Silverwick straight into the stomach with a bone shattering strike (if it were a normal mortal, but werewolves are much tougher), which made Silverwick lose his breath and pushed back to where he once was. “All who oppose me shall know me as the Great Devourer…. Know me and fear my power!!!” Chaaru spoke as he then began to raise his power, with a purple aura. His teeth began to grow into fangs as his eyes began to become red, with his pupils dialating and shifting forms. His eyes them resembled plus signs as he was beginning to get excited about his arm being ripped off. Chaaru was beginning to grow a bit taller and increasing in his muscle mass. With a deepened voice he cried out “I AM CHAARU!!! THE GREAT DEVOURER AND RIVAL OF GABRIEL!!! THE FINAL SURVIVOR OF THE ETERNITY WALKERS!!! WHAT HOPE DOES A MUT LIKE YOU HAVE AGAINST SOMEONE THAT IS OLDER THAN THIS PLANET ITSELF!!!” Chaaru was beginning to yell at the top of his lungs and voice becoming distorted and transitioning. The ground around him was beginning to split and crack as Chaaru was lashing out in anger from the defiling of his plans, yet he was smart enough to know that if he could fool Kronos into thinking that he was outmatched and not completely fail, then maybe he could survive long enough to eventually take Gluttony back and make Hothian pay for his foolish move.

La Volpe
03-13-2013, 10:51 PM
Zar


Zar watched the thing named Charuu fling Silverwick around like he was nothing but a rag doll. That was not a good sign. Worse yet, the loud mouth was now growing and changing... Great. Why can't things just be simple! He thought to himself crossly. Zar saw out of the corner of his eye, Marcius getting taken to safety by some of his men. "Well that's good." He said a small chuckle popping out. Zar focused back on Charuu though. Pulling his hood back over his head, Zar lifted his bow for the second time, and he slowly drew the taunt string back, two arrows poised to fire in the blink of an eye.

"Will you stop yelling?" Zar yelled at Charuu, not fully sure what his plan was for this one. The demonic aura flying off this guy was unsettling on it's own, but the speed he regrew his arm is what creeped out Zar out the most.

Azazeal849
03-15-2013, 12:15 PM
THE CITY OF EMOR, NOW

"I'm starting to have second thoughts about this." Ovidius admitted as he rode forward alongside Lycinia. They were approaching the front ranks of the army that was arrayed across the southern highway, which had been taking their ease, but stood up and raised their weapons as soon as they registered the two Namorians' approach. Ovidius noted that although the Romans wore captured Namorian armour under their dirty red cloaks, they had scrubbed the indigo iconography off the shields and repainted them in simple black.

Lycinia gave the spy a sidelong look. "This was your idea, master Ovidius. If you don't like your ideas you should probably stop having them." She grinned slightly, despite the threat of nearly 20,000 armed men bearing down on her. "That said, if there is anything else I should know, this would be a really good time to say it."

Ovidius chewed the inside of his cheek. "I told you everything Isis told me, domina. I'm just sorry I couldn't remember it sooner."

"Then let's hope Isis is still on our side today." Lycinia said, before reining in her horse and raising her voice to carry across to the watching Romans. "I represent the city of Emor and the Imperium of Galen Hippocrates Claudius. I wish to speak to commander Augustus Septim."

"You've found him." rumbled a voice, and a tall man mounted on an even taller white horse stepped forward from the red-cloaked ranks. The imposing figure raised an eyebrow.

"And who might you be, my lady?" he asked, in his deep authoritative voice.

Lycinia raised her head, using the movement to flick a flyaway curl of hair out of her eyes, and faced Septim with all the regal weight that 24 years of being raised in the Namorian aristocracy gave to a woman.

"Lycinia Caelesta Marci of Emor, at your service legatus."

"Marci." Septim repeated, his eyes narrowing, "A relation of Decius Marcius?"

Lycinia nodded, the slightest dip of her round face. "His wife."

"Then perhaps I should kill you for the insult your husband has offered me."

Lycinia didn't flinch. "Only if you have no respect for the immunity of ambassadors."

"Perhaps a hostage, then?" Septim smiled, enjoying the game. "Your life for the release of my laticlavius and the other prisoners."

Lycinia shrugged. "I doubt that'd get you very far. The Emperor commands here, not my husband, and he's not known for letting sentiment balance one life against hundreds."

Septim inclined his head, just slightly. "You appear remarkably calm about staring your own death in the face, my lady."

"And, despite appearances, I know you're a man of honour."

"Honour to myself, yes. Honour to my empire, yes. Honour to an enemy..." Septim paused, fixing Lycinia with an intense stare. "That's a riskier assumption."

Lycinia matched his stare. "I know you were honourable enough to sacrifice your empire to save Earth from the demons."

Death of Korzan
03-15-2013, 12:16 PM
Hercine

Crocolykes hissed and snapped at them from all sides, too many for even Hercules' lightning powers to defeat, waiting for the order from their orange-skinned leader.

Cassius pointed his red-stained sword towards the surviving Greeks.

“Achilles has fallen, and you are surrounded.” he barked. “Now would be time to surrender.”

Hercules looked at the man’s bloody sword with grim disdain; his face curled into a snarl and he dropped his blade. The men around him did so too and soon there was a crescendo of metal crashing against stone. The Orange Crocolyke soon drove his way through a pack of green and purple crocodile men; he roared with pleasure and pounded his chest, his brothers began doing the same.

The noise was loud enough that those who had been leaving Hercine in refuge could hear the faint crashing of metal and the pounding of Crocolyke fist on Crocolyke hide. The creatures began to roar in delight and pound their weapons on the ground with their other hands; the Namorians looked to Cassius in discomfort, but Cassius only smiled and continued holding his sword at the Demi-God.

“What is you intend to do with our armies, Namorian?” Hercules spat at the man; there was utter silence. The Orange Crocolyke emerged forward and stood beside Cassius; this action caused many Namorians to draw there swords. A rough hiss familiar with Crocodiles emerged from the Orange warrior. “To throw us underground would be foolish, especially when Achilles could cleave through the rock like butter.”

“Well, you could always join us.” Cassius proposed. Hercules’ brow rose at this idea. “Of course, it is not my place to ask such a thing of your forces. You will have to speak to our Leader Decius Marcius.”

“Providing Achilles didn’t gut him.” Hercules spoke, his mind filled with thought.

“I would doubt that, Marcius is a tricky man to kill, he has felled both a Sea Monster and assisted in the death of a Dragon.” Cassius backed up his claim.

“But Achilles isn’t a Dragon, nor is he a Sea Monster.”

“Well we shall see, your man was bested by someone and I cannot imagine anyone else who would have done so than Decius Marcius or Calvus.”

Hercules snorted and sat on a damaged rock at his side as a pair of cuffs were snapped around his hands.

“I want him under constant guard until we figure out what to do with this mess.” Cassius confirmed before turning and heading in the opposite direction of Hercules; down the steps and into the Ruined Keep.


--------------------------------

Silverwick prowled left a right around Chaaru, who lay on the ground. The Dark Elf’s arm lay in Silverwick’s maw, bleeding profusely, the dark blood dribbling down his chin and splattering against the dusty floor, mixing with the pool of blood that had emerged from both Marcius and Achilles. Silverwick watched as the Elf’s arm grew back quickly and before he could manoeuvre himself out of the way the man’s fist swung at him. The strike was extremely powerful and knocked Silverwick back into a few feet; the air in his lungs escaped out of his open maw. The Dire Wolf emitted a low throaty gurgle in pain before pushing himself back up onto his two front legs.

“All who oppose me shall know me as the Great Devourer… know me and fear my power!” The Elf yelled in psychotic glee as he began to be smothered in what appeared to be purple tendrils of energy. Several straggling Namorian and Greek troops looked towards the creature and ran at it Chaaru in confusion. As they neared a vicinity to the Elf they were incinerated; their bodies turned to ash and were brushed away by the unnatural breeze that the Dark-Elf was causing.

“I am Chaaru! The Great Devourer and rival of Gabriel! The final survivor of the Eternity Walkers! What hope does a mutt like you have against someone that is older than this planet itself?!” Chaaru boasted in an attempt to intimidate Silverwick, who simply shook his head and bared his teeth.

The Archer who had felled Achilles spoke, but he had completed his Task and Silverwick knew that he would be no match for the raging Elf. The Dire Wolf turned to him and snarled. “Run to Marcius’s aid, Demi-God. I will meet you in the Medical Tent as soon as possible.” Silverwick then turned back to Chaaru, baring his teeth.

“You speak of times long past, Elf-man.” Silverwick began to approach (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XWIDQ3Dt9c) the raging Elf, whose Dark aura had turned into a whirlwind of hatred and suffering that whipped at the ground and drained the life of it, leaving nothing but a smouldering plate of crudely made glass and Obsidian.

As the Wolf came closer, the fur on his snout began to turn to ash, receding; as the wolf looked up into the sky, he could feel that his father was watching him, he could feel that he was proud. Silverwick bared his teeth and continued to walk towards the cyclone of dread.

The purple area now touched the back of Silverwick’s legs and had removed all of the fur and a few pieces of skin from his body. Bloody gashes covered the creature but he trusted that his father’s help would keep him alive. The Wolf pressed on as the energy field enveloped him completely. Silverwick was suddenly wracked with extreme pain and the feeling of anxiety and anguish. Chaaru stood ahead of him, his hands raised as if maintaining the tendrils.

“You will kill yourself you know.” Silverwick yelled, more flecks of skin being ripped off of his body every few seconds, sometimes joined with flesh and blood. “You will kill yourself and destroy the ruins of the city as well!” The Dire Wolf took a few more painful steps towards the Elf and then stopped as his front legs were stripped completely to the bare white bone.

Taking deep breaths, his mouth open and blood dribbling slowly from his open maw, Silverwick concentrated his mind and pierced the defences of Chaaru’s conscious. The Wolf burrowed around inside the dark crevasses of the Elf’s head, tearing memories to pieces as he himself was being torn to pieces. Chaaru’s face became occasionally contorted with pain and his outburst seemed to lessen slightly.

Silverwick’s body was now fully reduced to a skeleton, his organs being housed inside his bleached white bones, his flesh turned to ash and flitting around in the cyclone of anger which now appeared to scream due to its maniacal speed. The Wolf did not think on his wounds, but instead continued to attack Chaaru. The anger from the man began to lessen until it was beginning to steadily decrease without the intervention of Silverwick; however, the damage had been done.

As the cyclone lessened, Silverwick had been completely reduced to a standing pile of bones, with all of his organs gone but his heart, the Dire Wolf stood there like a statue, his pearly bones standing in place. In his last move, Silverwick ejected his consciousness towards the Dark Elf. As the Dire Wolf did this, his body turned to ash and from the start of his snout to the end of his tail he disintegrated.

Silverwick’s spirit moved from where his body had left him; he pierced straight through the body and mind of Chaaru, who screamed in pain and outrage before being knocked back 25 feet and rendered unconscious. The Cyclone stopped abruptly and the tendrils began to fade away until they were no more.

A cold feeling fell over all on the battlefield straight after this, and Silverwick could be heard speaking in a few of the minds of those near to his Death Bed.

“I am ready.”

Dun Moriga

The sounds of the battle could be heard in the distance, the gleeful screams of the Orcs, the panicked cries of the Dwarves and the firing of Siege Engines. Every few moments a gate could be heard splintering slightly as the Orcs edged their way closer to breaching the first city gates. There were 10 sets of gates leading up to the Palace were the Quest party were currently, but that would only be a temporary defence unless something could be done about the Orcs.

As the Quest party approached the end of a large hallway, the Dwarf who had escorted them turned, his ginger beard brushing against his Steel Hauberk. “The King awaits in here, be polite and respectful, he may not have as much influence as your emperor but he may still have you killed on the spot.” And with that, the Dwarf pushed open the doors.

The room that was revealed could not be rivalled by even the Emperor’s quarters in Emor. At the end of the room sat a huge Emerald throne, perfectly carved and smooth to touch; on the stone floor lay carpet and animal skins and on the walls were pictures of past monarchs and bubblegum Pink Jewels that seemed to glow with a certain unexplainable luminescence. In the middle of the ceiling was a huge unexplainable plume of light that shot into the middle of the room itself, illuminating the throne, which glittered majestically under the light.

“My King, visitors from the Emperor.” The Dwarf man spoke before bowing and leaving the room to return to the front lines.

The King in question was tall for a dwarf and adorned with the finest armours that the Dwarves could offer. The armour was crafted from Ruby’s and Platinum, creating a ceremonial piece of armour that could easily be used in battle.

King Vagrund stroked his beard before he began coughing, a clenched fist covered his mouth. “Visitors from Emor? What good graces bring this to our besieged walls?” The Dwarven king grumbled to himself, reaching over and grabbing an odd transparent food item out of a bowl. The King bit into it, a line of fizzing green liquid sliding down his chin and soaking into his ginger beard. As the King drew his mouth away from the fruit, he turned his head and opened his old wizened eyes as if to query what their response might be.

Emor

Septim narrowed his eyes at the wife of his enemy; he looked up into the blue sky and snorted. 'Is this some kind of joke?' He though, possibly a message to whatever gods were watching them.

"Sacrifice our Empire?" Septim grit his teeth blinked rapidly. "We lost our lives and our honour whilst beautiful Rome burned under Kronos's forces." Septim approached the woman swiftly, but she did not flinch, she did not falter. "I led the forces on the fields of our country as we and our auxileries struck at the Demons; I led the last Legion-" Septim turned and gestured to the Roman Legion that stood behind him. "Straight at them, I seen Mars and War collide and I have seen...him. There was little hope for us, but we prospered."

The Roman Praetor turned and shook his head in disgust. "But your Empire is not even worthy of such feats. Whilst you attempt to stop us from sacking your city, the throne of your Empire; your husband battles the second greatest Warrior of all time, and if he lives, marches on to fight one of the largest armies that this planet has ever seen."

Septim smiled, his left hand constantly on the hilt of his blade in case the ambassador was not quite as delicate as she seemed. "Do you have children, Lycinia?"

La Volpe
03-16-2013, 11:29 PM
~Hercine~

Zar released his draw on his bow, heeding the words of the Dire Wolf. With only a moments hesitation, Zar slid the arrows back into his quiver and ran off after the man who'd fought one on one with the second greatest warrior of all time! As he ran, a sudden grim feeling filled him... A feeling that told him that the Dire wolf had lied.

~Dun Moriga~

Kuronus was struck speechless at the grandeur of the dwarven palace. As they made there way to the throne room, he couldn't stop looking all around him, at every last thing they passed. But as they neared, he felt a different sensation. All of his senses suddenly became razor sharp, he could smell the sweat of the guards back at the entrance of the castle, he could hear the breathing of people in adjourning rooms, and he could swear he could see the individual hairs of there dwarven escorts beard. As they entered the throne room, the rangers eyes locked onto the magnificent sight that was the dwarven king. As the king spoke to them, Kuronus chose to stay silent, and let the diplomats speak.

Azazeal849
03-19-2013, 03:37 PM
HERCINIA, ONE HOUR LATER

When Decius Marcius awoke, it was to a world of dull, throbbing pain.

"Hold him down." a tense voice snapped as soon as he opened his eyes, and Marcius felt strong hands pushing down on his right arm and shoulder as he lay on a makeshift bed of cloaks draped over a folding table. Turning his head on protesting neck muscles, he saw that he was in a field hospital, separated by a curtain from the main body of the tent. He could hear groans and shouts of pain from beyond the curtain as the other legion medics went about their business. Someone had removed his armour and it was stacked in four neat pieces in a corner, with his Namorian sword propped against it. Hate was not next to it, and Marcius couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. The relief was tempered by a sudden sense of foreboding, and he jerked his head in the opposite direction, looking down at his pinned arm and expecting to see his fist still bound to the daemon blade. But instead he saw a medicus in a bloodstained apron, pale and tired-looking as he examined the livid wound on Marcius' wrist. Two grim legionaries from Marcius' command staff were keeping Marcius' arm pinned to the table. His hand itself was bloodstained, and the fingers were unnaturally straight and rigid. Marcius tried to flex them, but the attempt brought no movement - only a knife of pain that shot up the inside of his forearm.

He had cut his wrist. Yes, that was it. It had been the only way to let go of the demon blade. But if he had dropped it, where was it now? What if one of his men had picked it up, and it was now attempting to poison him as it had done to Marcius?

"My other sword." he rasped, forcing the words through a throat so dry it felt like sandpaper. "Where is it?"

"We looked, sir." said one of the legionaries, "But we couldn't find it. Either it's still out on the battlefield somewhere or that thing called Chaaru took it."

The man spoke hesitantly, as if he expected Marcius to be upset, or even wrathful. But the legatus just sighed.

"Mars said I would have to return the sword to it's true owner." he said in a hoarse whisper. "Perhaps now was the time." What he didn't say was that he would be relieved to never lay eyes upon the cursed weapon ever again. He had been forced to cripple himself just to stop it overpowering him.

"Calvus." he croaked a moment later. "Where is Calvus?"

"He's...he's dead, sir. And the..." The legionary had to pause and swallow before continuing. "And the messenger of the gods. The wolf fell while driving off Chaaru."

The double blow shocked Marcius into silence. He closed his eyes.


* * * * * *

Feeling wearier than at any other point in his life, tribune Varinius dropped heavily out of his new horse's saddle and handed the reins to a legionary. His destination was the hospital tent, which was already full beyond capacity. Men with faces and limbs scarred by the jagged red striations of lightning strikes, or holding bloodied cloths to sword cuts, waited miserably while the more seriously hurt were stretchered past them. Some of those men, skin charred black by more severe burns and with tourniquets wrapped around grievous wounds, screamed out to the gods or to their absent loved ones as they were carried past the long lines of the walking wounded. Others were too badly hurt to cry out at all. Round the other side of the huge tent and out of sight of those waiting to be treated, a handful of slaves went to and fro piling the bodies of legionaries who had died on the operating tables.

The normally-caustic Varinius gritted his teeth as he surveyed the scene, and walked to intercept the camp prefect who was standing nearby, distinctive in his tall-crested helmet as he pointed and snapped commands in an attempt to bring some order to the post-battle chaos.

"I suppose it's too early for a casualty estimate, praefectus?" Varinius grunted after getting the senior centurion's attention with a crisp salute.

The legion's third-in-command shook his grizzled head. "I've sent men to count the dead; the wounded are still coming in; and it'll take a while yet to disentangle the troops that got mashed together during the fighting in the streets. The picture I'm getting so far is that 2nd cohort is now combat ineffective, and 3rd cohort doesn't look much better. 4th, 5th and 7th are spread out all over the city."

2nd cohort had led the assault on the southern wall, centuries rotating ranks and fresh centuries replacing spent ones in the relentless meat-grinder that made the Namorian army so effective. But the breaches had held for longer than expected, and the deadly lightning strikes of Hercules and his brother had destroyed whole centuries. 3rd cohort had been similarly mauled in its ladder-based attack on the walls, and the survivors of both had become jumbled with the reinforcing 4th cohort when the Crocolykes had turned the battle so decisively. The formations attacking the north and west walls had suffered much less - intended primarily to fix some of the Greek defenders in place, they had not pressed home their attack in earnest until the Greeks had begun to withdraw from the walls. Nevertheless, dispersing through the winding streets of Hercinia in pursuit of the enemy had left the 5th and 7th cohorts in a jumbled mess of lesser formations that the command staff had yet to sort out.

"The locals aren't exactly helping." the praefectus went on. "They come pouring out into the streets as soon as the battle's over, eager to thank the men by plying them with food and wine. I suspect that more than a few of our legionaries are drunk already."

"A fucking disgrace, sir." Varinius growled in agreement, though both men knew that even in a force as disciplined as the Fulminata, such behaviour was unavoidable. Varinius' greater concern was of the victorious soldiers looting or otherwise abusing the locals, or of starting fights with the Crocolyke rebels who had come to their aid. He hoped that his centurions would keep control of the situation, but he wanted to get back into the city (and in a position to crack heads himself if necessary) as soon as possible. The thought reminded Varinius of his primary reason for coming to the field hospital, and with a respectful farewell to the praefectus he pushed his way into the tent. Wrinkling his nose against the abbatoir reek, he threaded through the sweating medics and their wretched patients to the curtained-off room near the back. Voices coming from behind the curtain suggested that Marcius had regained consciousness.

"I can attempt to repair your flexor tendons, sir." a tired-sounding medicus was saying to Varinius' legion commander, "But you will not be able to hold a sword again for several months, if at all." The man paused. "The Sky Men have medicine more advanced than our own...I could perhaps ask the priestess of Ra to summon their assistance."

"I think you already know my answer to that." a familiar voice growled.

Varinius ducked through the veiling curtain, drawing brief looks from the two legionaries standing guard before they recognised him and raised their arms in salute. "My apologies, sir." he said, "The city is secure. We are preparing one of the villas to serve as your command post as soon as you are well enough to move. Cassius is handling things for now." A crooked smile crossed the tribune's face. "The boy might need a few more lessons in soldiering, but he's shaping up to be a damn fine senator. He convinced the Greeks to lay down their arms, and I believe he's currently having words with the Crocolyke leader."

"Crocolykes?" Marcius repeated sharply, attempting to twist the unrestrained half of his body towards Varinius.

"You didn't see, sir?" Varinius asked, shooting a questioning look at the medicus.

"The legatus was unconscious when the rebel army appeared." the gaunt man explained.

"Ah." Varinius grunted. "My apologies again, then. An army of Crocolyke rebels showed up right after you put down Achilles. Don't ask me where the bastards came from, but they were on our side. They took the southern wall."

"It wasn't me who killed Achilles." Marcius growled, "It was Silverwick. And what are those rebel scum doing here? How did they raise an army without us knowing?"

Varinius frowned. Marcius' hatred and distrust of Crocolykes was well-known, and understandable after fighting against two of their uprisings, but it was not a hatred that Varinius shared. Moreover, these Crocolykes had undeniably tipped a fleeting advantage into a crushing victory. Nevertheless, Varinius could almost see his commander's mind working. What would the Crocolykes want for their victory? Did they want to reclaim their original homeland? Where would that leave the humans and Hercinian cat-men who had previously oppressed them? It was a thorny political situation.

"They probably mustered during the shit-storm in the provinces that's been keeping us distracted." Varinius offered. "As for what they want...well, hopefully young Cassius can give you an idea so you can make the decision."

"I need to operate soon." the medicus put in. He was busy pouring diluted somniferum extract into a cup, and sterilising a pair of forceps in a small fire before cleaning them in a stew of antiseptic herbs. "The legatus will not be fit to move for several more hours."

"The Greek leader is also asking for you specifically, sir." Varinius grunted, "Although personally I'm quite happy to let him rot."

The medicus turned from Varinius to Marcius. "If you want to attend the Crocolykes now sir, I can just bind your wrist up. But the longer we wait the less chance I have of saving your hand."

Marcius grunted in understanding, then sighed. Perhaps he realised that his prejudice against the Crocolykes made him ill-suited to negotiating with the rebel leader.

"Tell Cassius that he is my word and my will on this matter." he said at length. "He has command until further notice, and the decision on how to deal with the Crocolykes and the Greeks is his."

Varinius frowned in surprise. Cassius was the legion's tribunus laticlavius, which indisputably made him second-in-command, but like most men of the rank he was there primarily to learn from the wiser soldiers around him, and gain the experience that would pave his way to senatorial office after his tour of duty was complete. Then again, Varinius would be the first to admit that the tactful Cassius was better suited to diplomatic negotiations than he.

"I'll pass on the message, sir." he said at last.

Marcius nodded, sat up to take the cup of somniferum from the medicus, and drained the strong opiate. He grimaced at the taste before replying. "Carry on, tribune."

Varinius put his right fist to his left shoulder, extended his palm, and turned on his heel to leave the tent. Marcius lay back on the operating table, letting the pleasant numbness of the morphine solution fog his brain and spread through his limbs. Above him, the medicus beckoned forward his assistant slaves.

"Mars," Marcius whispered as he sank into unconsciousness, "Too many have died today. Please tell me it was worth it."

Azazeal849
03-19-2013, 09:48 PM
(Text in gold belongs to DoK)

EMOR, NOW

Septim smiled, his left hand constantly on the hilt of his blade in case the ambassador was not quite as delicate as she seemed. "Do you have children, Lycinia?"

"I do, Augustus." Lycinia replied steadily, surprised by the legate's provocative use of her first name, but following suit without flinching. "Three of them. And I would fight for their future just as I imagine you would."

As she spoke, an uneasy thought about where the conversation was going settled over her. Septim had talked of his home city being sacrificed to allow him to take the fight to the demons. What if Septim had lost his own children in the destruction of Rome? Knowing that his enemies now stood in the exact same position would not convince him to be merciful to Emor.

"As my husband does, now." she went on, trying to cover her mistake at mentioning Septim's own possible children by returning to the previous subject, "He knows who he's challenging, because I told him. He accepted it. So what if he does triumph, just as you did? I know my husband, praetor, and when the stakes are highest, when the pressure is great enough to crack other men, that is when he excels."

She blinked a few times, and pushed away a strand of hair that the wind had blown across her face.

"I believe he can win, Augustus. But fighting the demons will be much easier alongside someone who has beaten them before." She paused as she reached the crux of her argument. "That's what I'm here to propose. An alliance against a greater, common enemy."

"But what do you have to offer me, Ambassador." Septim cooly responded. "A life of Servitude to a false Empire? No." Septim took a stop closer. "A Villa in the country with acres of land and as many Namorian women as I wish to 'taste'? No." Another step closer; now the Roman man stood close enough to hear the woman's shaking breaths.

"What could you and your Emperor, who I notice is hiding behind his walls, waiting for me to gut you like a fish no doubt, offer us? Warriors, and Ambassadors of the Glorious Roman Empire." Septim's men roared and began to chant 'Rome' over and over again; a smirk adorned the Praetor's face and he tilted his head, challenging Lycinia to answer.

"You might better ask what destroying this city has to offer you, praetor." Lycinia answered, willing herself not to give in to the fearful awe that Septim's proximity naturally invoked. "If the defences don't prove stronger than you think, and if my husband doesn't simply come back and destroy you a second time, what are you going to do next? Build a new Rome? How long will that last before the demons come sweeping in?"

She paused, and decided on a more risky tack.

"There's also your wayward descendents the Earthborn to consider. If you attack us they'll rain fire from the sky on you and anything you try and build. They react like angry gods when provoked. For that matter, what of the gods? We know Nemesis had a hand in your resurrection, but what if she is defeated or simply decides you've served your purpose? You might be undying, praetor Septim, but you're not immortal. What do you want your legacy to be? The hero who saved not one but two worlds from the demons, or the man who fell to petty revenge and destroyed a city out of spite?" Lycinia shook her head slowly, and tilted her head towards Ovidius. "My friend's vision from the goddess Isis suggests you're a better man than that. This is no longer about spoils of war and villas in the country, praetor. This is about the fate of worlds."

Septim's gaze hovered in the distance towards the white walls of the city, archers stood on every balcony, ready to rain arrows on the Roman forces. Taking a deep breath, he considered his options, then came to an ultimatum.

"We will have a district of the City, and not the slums." Septim's hard eyes met Lycinia's. "Your soldiers will stay out of our district and we shall keep out of theirs; I also demand that we have half of the city's port declared our land; one last thing of this arrangement, we are not auxillaries, nor are we part of your petty Empire." Septim released his hand from his blade slowly. "Those are our terms, take them or leave them."

Lycinia let out a breath, as gently as she could to try and hide the fact that she had been holding it. Given the circumstances, and the alternative, this was the best outcome she could have wished for. And with so many of the legions deployed to the southern expedition, there should be more than enough room in the city's multiple barracks.

"Done." she said after a moment. "We can accommodate four legions easily in the city castra." She paused again, and then added, "I'll see to it that your prisoners and your legion standards are returned to you."

There was a shout of "Roma invicta!" from the assembled red-crests at this concession. This time, Lycinia took it as a good sign.

"Ave." she said to Septim, holding one palm up towards the Roman commander before she and Ovidius turned their horses' heads back towards Emor. "Atque vale."


* * * * * *

HERCINIA, NOW

"Any further orders, sir?" the centurion asked as he marched in step with Cassius through the atrium of the former governor's villa, a few other Fulminata staff officers following behind. With his plumed helmet under his good arm and his indigo cloak thrown over one shoulder, Cassius certainly looked confident, but the experienced centurion could easily pick up on the tell-tale stress signs in the young tribune. Commanding a whole legion was different from commanding a cavalry detachment, and Cassius clearly knew it. He walked a little stiffly, his jaw clenched a little too tight. The centurion was of course too professional to say anything - at least until he had a chance to guage the newly-minted commander's response.

"We'll be here for a few days at the least." Cassius said as he walked. "Once the men are reorganised we should let them unwind a bit - acknowledge their achievements thus far."

"What did you have in mind sir?" the centurion asked cautiously.

"Promotions. We lost a lot of centurions in the assault; men who distinguished themselves should be rewarded. The men who captured the red-crest eagles at Minerva, for example. Or the first men onto the walls, what were their names?"

"Marcus Publius and Gneus Albinius, sir."

"We'll hold some modest victory celebrations in their honour. The war might not be over, but we need to let the men enjoy what they've achieved so far. Keep morale up. But this will all take place outside the city, and the men who are not directly engaged in guarding the Greeks or resupplying are to remain camped outside. Make sure they don't cause trouble for the locals."

The centurion nodded - it was a wise enough move. "And until then sir?" he prompted carefully, knowing that organising the men and moving them back out of the city would take time. And while most of the men were just glad to be alive and grateful towards their Hercinian hosts, there were always troublemakers. Especially now that the city was full of their new Crocolyke "allies" - creatures that many of the Fulminata had fought against as little as three years ago.

"Legion law still stands." Cassius said, a frown creasing his brow. "Looters and rapists are to be punished mercilessly."

The centurion felt his respect for the younger man go up a notch - he had initially feared that the inexperienced tribune might be too anxious for the men to like him, and thus be a lax commander. It was a common mistake among the younger politician generals that the Imperium often put in charge of its legions - in the centurion's experience, liking came from respect, which came from discipline. Moreover, liking always came secondary to obedience.

"What about the Crocolykes, sir?" the centurion added, just to make sure that Cassius had considered it.

"Assaulting or killing a fellow soldier is a capital offence, is it not?" Cassius answered shrewdly. "Make sure that the word gets out that the Crocolykes are to be considered legion auxillaries until further notice - that is, fellow soldiers."

"Very good, sir." the centurion said, halting as they approached the door to the governor's reception suite. He saw Cassius pause and take a breath.

"No different from speaking to the senate back home, eh sir?" the centurion said cheerfully, picking up on the tribune's apparent nervousness and making conversation to alleviate it. "I daresay some of those senators are just as stubborn as Crocolykes and as treacherous as these bastard Greeks."

A smile tugged at the corner of Cassius' clean-shaven face. "Perhaps. But please don't repeat that to their faces."

To the centurion's surprise, he noticed Cassius straighten slightly as he talked. The young tribune hadn't been nervous; just gathering his thoughts. He was in his element now.

"Very good, sir." he said, and opened the door for the legion's brevet commander.

At the table inside sat the hulking Crocolyke leader, his orange scales striking even in the reduced light provided by the skylights above the rain-pools in each corner of the room. At the table's second and third cardinal points sat Hercules and Heracles, the twin commanders of the defeated Greek force. For the formal negotiation, Cassius had provided the Greek prisoners with the courtesy of unbinding their hands. It was not an overly reckless gesture, for veterans from the Fulminata's 1st cohort stood with hands resting on sword hilts around the edges of the room. Cassius took the fourth, unoccupied seat as his prime centurion and attendent staff spread out to bolster the silent guards or to take notes on wax tablets.

"Well gentlemen." Cassius said with another slight smile. "It's time to decide where we all go from here." He turned first to the Crocolyke leader. "Your timely assistance was much appreciated; but as you can imagine, I'm not the only one wondering why you are here, and what you might desire in return for such aid."

The Crocolyke Alpha stood from his chair, a wooden stool that had cracked slightly underneath his huge muscular body. The Alpha slapped his full hand against his abdomen and rumbled in his throat. "Namorian." He sat again.

"You believe we wish for reward." The Orange Crocolyke laughed, a garbled and deep sound that resembled the grinding of rocks and the tumbling of dirt. "We wish for no other reward than to battle alongside the men of this world. Our prophets have felt something change in the nature of all things; if you would have us, we would be willing to fight with your legion, we would only require the normal amount of food you would give to any Imperium soldier." The Crocolyke placed emphasis on the final two words; he was not about to allow his men to be treated like slaves after marching the full distance from their homes in Zamibia to Hercinia.

Cassius raised his eyebrows in surprise, wondering if this simple declaration of allegiance was the gift from the gods that it appeared to be. Had the Crocolyke leader not given thought to what he wanted for his people after the war was over? Then, he reflected that there might well be no after the war.

"May I ask your name?" he said to the amber-skinned Crocolyke.

"Zhegnra." the lizard man growled throatily.

"Zuh-eg-nara." Cassius repeated, stumbling over the name that wasn't easily reproduced by human vocal chords. The rebel leader was rather different from what he had been expecting after all the Fulminata veterans' tales of the Crocolyke wars, though he was tactful enough not to say so. "On behalf of the emperor and the Legio Fulminata, I accept your offer of service."

This caused some mutters and sidelong glances among the men standing back against the walls. Under the pretext of handing Cassius a cup of wine from a carafe that had just been brought in by a young slave, one of the staff officers stepped forward to whisper in the tribune's ear.

"Sir," he murmured, "You are aware that formally inducting these rebels into the legion auxilia grants them Namorian citizenship upon their discharge?"

"I am aware." Cassius replied softly. "As, I assume, is he."

He waited for the wine to be passed round the table before raising his voice again, this time addressing Hercules and Heracles. The Greek brothers were as stoic and unreadable as ever.

"You started this war by invading Hercine, which made you our enemies." Cassius began, "But I sense that there's something bigger going on here. The dead rising, dragons, armies appearing out of nowhere...and not just here, but all over the Imperium. And not long ago, commander Marcius received word that demons were abroad outside of Tartarus. Someone is playing a game with us all, and that's why I offered you the chance to join us. Men like yours would be far more valuable at our side than imprisoned."

Hercules tapped his index finger on the table and pursed his lips. He looked at the young man carefully, scrutinizing his every move. "I asked to see Marcius." The Greek leader decisively declared. "Where is your commander? And where is Achilles; I would request that my most trusted Vagabond be here at my side, whilst I enjoy the company of your fine men at my every corner." Hercules gestured to the armed Namorians, hands on their blades and ready to 'kill' the Demi-God brothers.

Cassius chewed the inside of his cheek, having suspected that this very subject would come up as soon as he mentioned his commander's name.

"The legatus is currently having his wounds attended to, and will not be able to join us until later this evening. Your champion fought hard, even if he was defeated." Cassius inclined his head, forcing himself for the sake of the greater good to be complimentary about the man who had raised legatus Scipio's head on a broken eagle. "Until then, I speak with the commander's authority. As for Achilles, I could arrange to have him brought here as soon as he...reanimates?"

"Hmph." Hercules ran his teeth across his top lip slowly, before coming to a conclusion. "Very well, whatever your name is. We shall join your forces, as even if we didn't you still would not hold us." Hercules smiled, hoping that the young man was surprised by how effortless the talks were. "We also shall require food, we made be unkillable, but we can still get uncomfortable."

Cassius was indeed surprised, and he wasn't a good enough politician yet to completely hide it.

"Naturally." he said after a moment. "In that case gentlemen, I...believe we are done here. I'll make arrangements for the supplying of your men."

Epostle
04-01-2013, 05:25 PM
Chaaru

Meanwhile, before being knocked out by the werewolf, Chaaru was using himself as a distraction. He knew Hate was laying nearby and while he was gathering power, he used one of the living stitches inside his body to quickly grab the sword, and dig a hole in the ground rapidly and took the sword with it. Chaaru finally came back to reality as he finally woke up and found himself surrounded by uncaring war veterans. Using his cunning, he only smiled as his body disintegrated and melted into the ground.

Gabrielle

After being brought in front of the Dwarven King himself, Gabrielle wondered why it was so easy to get to this guy? Do they just allow anyone to join in the palace that looks suspicious? Gabrielle then began to speak “Well, to be honest, I’m not Namorian. I am Earthborn, as you may call it. Also, I consider it quite rude for your men to greet us like they did. I know you have your “methods” but as the same time, you must realize that we are here for a reason.”

Gabrielle was standing perfectly still, facing the dwarven king. “Now first of all, I’m here to ask you something… the Nerubian Broodmother has chosen me to ask you something. They want to ally with you to take on this horde that has gathered at your doorstep.” Gabrielle said in monotone, not caring what the king may think of this treaty. “Also, we are hunting to the Stones of Alcamor. We are needing them for our quest… we’re not just random wonderers… and you may want to respect your elders better than that, king.” Gabrielle said monotone except for the word king, which he used a sarcastic imphasis.

Azazeal849
04-02-2013, 09:43 PM
DUN MORIGA, NOW

Numiera saw her moment, slipped away from the others and grabbed the large bow as well as the quiver full of spears, then she ran to the others after leaving her old bow to the ballista and swinging the new one over her shoulder, binding the quiver to her lower back.

Salvius looked at the happy girl from beneath the rim of his helmet, and gave an ambiguous grunt. While the demon girl had shown that she did have some skills to offer the group, it was Salvius’ opinion that combat was an area where her enthusiasm exceeded her abilities. He didn’t know what had possessed the timid, shrinking girl to run back to fight the norsemen at the edge of Combrogia, but it had resulted in the deaths of a praetorian and four Afragian guards. He still hadn’t forgiven her for that.

“Come on girl.” he said, following their dwarven hosts without further comment.


* * * * * *

Salvius couldn’t help but be awed by the masterfully wrought opulence of the dwarven palace, and it took a conscious effort to stop his eyes wandering across the glittering walls.

“Visitors from Emor? What good graces bring this to our besieged walls?”

“We are hunting the Stones of Alcamor. We are needing them for our quest…we’re not just random wanderers…and you may want to respect your elders better than that, king.”

Behind the cloaked Earthborn, standing with his left hand resting on his grounded semi-cylindrical shield, Salvius’ grip tensed, just slightly. He knew how to give and receive orders around other military men, but with the possible exception of princess Nesara his response to royalty was to stand straight and shut up unless he was asked a direct question. However, as much as he would have liked to stand back and watch Gabriel reap the rewards of his insolence, that wouldn’t help the Dun Morigan king’s opinion of the rest of them. In Salvius’ experience the dwarves’ attitude was not far removed from his own: they appreciated frankness - moreso than most Namorians - but they still valued respect for authority, and especially that of their sovereign. And that meant the rather humiliating necessity of apologising on Gabriel’s behalf.

Salvius bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to let his annoyance show as he spoke. “You must forgive our auxiliary, Vagrund rex. As he says he is earthborn, and like most of their kind he makes a habit of talking out of turn. He doesn’t speak for all of us, although he does speak some truth.”

He paused for a second, wondering if he should make formal introductions, and deciding that the dwarven king would probably rather he get to the point.

“I am centurion Salvius of the legio Fulminata, and yes I’m looking for the Alcamor Stones to try and help us fight these things that are invading all across the Imperium. This is princess Nesara of Afragia who has agreed to accompany us, and can probably explain more eloquently than me.”

He indicated the Afragian princess, who was appraising Vagrund with her intelligent gaze, and stood back.


* * * * * *

HERCINIA, NOW

Legatus Marcius and what remained of his command staff sat atop their horses by the edge of the road which led to the east gate of Hercinia, watching a steady stream of legionaries march past them. Refugees, humans and fur-skinned Hercinian cat men who had been shunted off the road by the advancing military machine, trudged in the opposite direction. After news of the Namorian victory and the surprising alliance that followed had begun to filter out into the countryside, the dispossessed Hercinians were trickling back home. Many of them were dirty and malnourished, and some stopped to look in dismay at the crumbled walls of their former city. The province capital had been savaged by the brief war, and the rebuilding and re-establishment of law would be a challenge in itself. However, it was not a challenge that Marcius had time to rise to. The best he had been able to do was leave tribune Castus as the temporary governor of his former protectorate, assisted by his fellow survivors of the 5th legion, and bolstered by the town watch and two centuries from the Fulminata’s 10th cohort. Together they still made little more than a reinforced cohort, and Marcius had ordered Castus to send men north to Constantinium and recall whatever was left of the Rapax legion. It was still hardly satisfactory, but it would have to be enough - without some sort of garrison to keep order, the war-ravaged province would become a haven for bandits even with the Greeks and Crocolykes removed.

Marcius turned in his saddle to watch a maniple of Crocolykes as they passed, moving in reasonable formation and equipped with Namorian-style marching packs. Marcius noted that the cat men among the nearby refugees were casting sullen looks at the Crocolykes, as if resenting the fact that their homeland had been saved by the very creatures they had oppressed. Marcius himself was hardly comfortable with the situation, even if Cassius’ political manoeuvring on his behalf had been masterful.

“Well…” the young tribune had said when Marcius had met news of the alliance with predictable reservation. “They do say to make alliances after the war is over, don’t they sir? Which I daresay is especially true for men who can’t die.”

Marcius had merely grunted, his expression glacially neutral. “And the Crocolykes?”

“They wanted to join us, sir. They know something bigger is going on.”

“With all due respect, legatus.” the camp prefect had put in, lending the formidable weight of his experience to the discussion, “Even if we look at it from a purely practical point of view, less than 80% of our men still live, and fewer than that are combat worthy. If we are to fight again in Emor, and then in Dun Moriga, we need their support.”

The senior centurion was right enough, as indeed he usually was. He had done a sterling job of providing packs for all of their new auxillaries, and of finding new horses for the cavalry and staff without reducing the artillery train, thereby not compromising the legion’s marching speed. He could not however bring men back from the dead. The Fulminata’s 2nd and 3rd cohorts had had to be disbanded, their survivors spread among the remaining cohorts. Likewise 10th cohort, now with four of its six centuries detached, had released the remaining two to fill gaps elsewhere in the battle line and ceased to exist as an independent formation. The legion could still fight, but at a notably reduced capacity. Then there was the Dun Morigan artillery; the legion’s namesake and its most powerful force multiplier in a pitched battle. Three of their twelve guns had been damaged beyond repair during the siege, and the dwarf-forged weapons were even less replaceable than trained legionaries.

Marcius understood that keeping the Greeks and Crocolykes close at hand was far better than leaving them unsupervised in Hercine. For one thing, there were too many of them to effectively guard; even if the whole of the bloodied 18th legion remained to do so. But to rely on them as allies in a fight, so soon after a bitter siege, and with the Crocolyke wars still fresh in memory…

The legion commander rolled his shoulders to redistribute the weight of his armour. His right hand was still paralysed, the recently-operated wound protected by a thick bandage that held his wrist and forearm immobile. Marcius ignored the pain as he watched scale-skinned Crocolykes and Greeks with their long spears marching alongside his own legionaries. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer…yes, that was a truism. And the enemy of my enemy, dies second. But could he apply that philosophy to an enemy that, whether trustworthy or not, couldn’t truly die?


* * * * * *

NAMOR, THREE DAYS LATER

“Stop!” the Namorian scout demanded - angrily and ineffectually - as he urged his horse after the red-cloaked Romans who had outpaced him.

Quintus Publius of legate Septim’s 2nd legion couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled his own horse to a stop at the crest of the hill, holding up an arm to halt his comrades. Below him was the vanguard of a Namorian legion, marching steadily up the paved road. They made for a curious sight; as well as the standard legionaries aping Roman drill and equipment, there were ranks of scaly lizard-men, and men with sloped helmets and round shields that Publius had not seen outside of mosaics depicting the ancient Hellenic wars.

“I told you to stop, Roman!” the Namorian scout spat as he and his companions belatedly pulled to a halt beside their Roman counterparts.

“Your ability to keep up is not our concern, Namorian.” Publius smirked, and turned his eyes back to the marching column.

The centurion at the head of the leading unit had shouted at his men to halt as he spotted the knot of horsemen barring their path. From what Publius could see, they were as surprised by the mixture of red and blue horsemen as Publius had been by their cosmopolitan ranks. No doubt they had been on edge after seeing no sign of Roman troops since crossing the Minerva. Publius let them stare for a minute, before cupping his hands around his mouth to shout down to them.

“You do not have auth-” the leading Namorian began, before Publius cut him off.

“Salve!” he yelled cheerfully, “May we speak to your commander?”

His voice echoed between the gently rolling hills, and then faded in silence. For a minute, nothing happened. Then, from the head of the halted army cantered a man on a black horse, wearing banded armour, a plumed helmet, and a lightning bolt medallion which kept his right shoulder free of his indigo cloak. His right hand however was useless - he carried it stiffly, with a heavy bandage encumbering his wrist.

“Someone,” legatus Marcius barked, “Had better tell me what the fuck is going on here.”

Although the presence of the man whose sorcery had defeated his own legate’s unnerved Publius, he had to fight hard to conceal his amusement.

“Ave, legatus Marcius.” he said. “There have been a few changes in your absence. Believe it or not, we’re your allies now.”


* * * * * *

It was late afternoon, and the sting had gone out of the summer sun. Settling gently towards the horizon, it was just beginning to paint the western facings of the city houses gold as Marcius strode through the front gate of his home villa. He refused to let his crippled wrist or the still-healing burns on his neck and chest affect his stature.

“Decius?” Lycinia breathed as she stepped out into the atrium with Hercinia and Afragia in tow. “Decius!”

She gathered the hem of her dress with one hand and ran forward across the tiled courtyard. Marcius caught her and lifted her with his good arm, pulling her into a deep kiss.

“Gods, Decius, I’ve missed you.” Lycinia said as her husband put her down. Her warm smile faded as her eyes dropped to the bandage on his wrist, and his unnaturally rigid fingers. “What happened to your hand?”

“War stories can wait.” Marcius said, a smile splitting his sun-lined features. Just as he didn’t let his injuries affect his bearing, he didn’t let his many worries about recent events show on his face. Not yet. “I want to see my children.”

Death of Korzan
04-12-2013, 12:01 AM
The Underworld

“Fresh meat my lord.” The Lich Lord spoke to Hades, behind him standing the dregs of the recently deceased, warriors, peasants, corporate lord from earth and even ordinary people. The God of the Underworld rolled his eyes and spoke; his voice was like syrup running through the air from his mouth, it was almost addictive to listen to and there were many mortals who had never left the underworld after travelling there before their time due to his voice.

“Bring forwards the warriors, I think it is time we give Attila a test…” Hades grit his teeth when he said the name of the current Legate and his Champion. The other powerful warriors had left the underworld since Thanatos disappeared and Hades had never particularly liked the conquering Mortal.

As the dead combatants stepped forward, Hades flicked his wrist and purple flame covered the area, transporting the deceased soldiers to a flat plane of purple land. Each combatant was found with a sword and shield in his hand and a spear on his back, in front of them stood a spectral figure; the ghost of Attila the Hun. Attila had decided against returning to the world of the Mortals, he did not wish to bow to Emperors or Kings and without the rest of his Mongol army he would be weak against the legions of the Imperium, or the Horde of the Free South.

“Who of you is brave enough to face me?” Attila spoke, stretching out his arms. The Sword of Mars, the red steel blade, sat at his waist menacingly; as if it was also challenging the dead. Multiple men stood forward. “You.” Attila pointed towards one of the bigger men. “Approach.” The spectral man stepped forward and readied his sword. Hades chuckled, flicked his wrist and out of nowhere another throne, this one flowery and beautiful appeared next to Hades’ obsidian and skeletal throne. Persephone soon joined him and Hades gave the signal for the Hun to begin to battle.

Attila knocked down man upon man, after defeating them their spirits being sent to Anubis in the judging chambers. His sword flew fast and true, cutting through spirit after spirit until there was only one left. The remaining spirit stood with pride and power; he had done his service in the land of the living and now he wished to serve in the land of the dead. The idea had only come to him when he watched the other warriors recklessly run at the Hun; he had studied how he flowed with his sword. He knew where to strike.

The final combatant walked slowly forward, pacing his steps perfectly. Attila the Hun bashed his fist against his hard abs and began to sprint towards the combatant. Raising his blade, the Hun hefted it above his head. He never saw the spear that darted up from the combatants back, piercing straight through his ribs.

A rookie mistake.

Hades’ eyes widened slightly, then his hands rose and he clapped; the sound echoed across the field of battle. Attila looked up at the man, a Namorian for sure; the Namorian looked at him also, a face of cold untrust, but a face of power and bitterness, as if he was cheated of the years after his death. The Combatant dropped Attila’s dying spirit on the floor and lifted the Sword of Mars, striking it into the ground. “I have defeated your Champion, God of the Underworld.”

Hades rose, walking across the air as if it were solid steps. “And now you shall take his place…”

Odin’s Grotto

As the Druada shifted through the shrubbery with Isabella in tow the seemingly endless expanse of green trees began to thin until they opened out into a gigantic glacial valley. At the bottom of this glacial valley sat trees; Seplengais waded around in the meadows; Archery ranges sat aligned on many walls where various Eldrani Rangers shot arrows with awesome accuracy the likes to equal the 20 gifted warriors. Cicerin hives sat in a separate section of the city, various bee-folk tending to their young or creating honey. A grand building sat on the far Northern corner against the opposite end of the valley. The building rivaled Vagrund’s throne room in beauty and the mahogany and Cherry tree wood that it was sprouted from was beautifully grown and held each other in a solid, eternal embrace.

“The hall of the Old-Saplings.” The Seplengais scout hummed to himself before lifting Isabella by her shoulder, his wooden ‘fingers’ loping around her arms and lifting her onto his broad, leaf lain shoulders. “They will want to see you, the first Earth-Born to have been graced to the wonders of our city.” And so the Druada and Isabella marched down a set of steep Oak wood steps and into the vanilla smelling streets of Odin’s Grotto.

Dun Moriga

“Well, to be honest, I’m not Namorian. I am Earthborn, as you may call it. Also, I consider it quite rude for your men to greet us like they did. I know you have your “methods” but as the same time, you must realize that we are here for a reason.”

King Vagrund leant forward in his chair and took one hand to his hammer. Two Dwarves emerged from behind the throne and stood at both of the King’s sides, halberds raised and poised in the air. “I would watch your tongue ‘Earth-Born’. My city is being sacked and you speak of methods. My men will greet you how they see fit. ર્ડાεςοχστέλટા.” The King dropped his hand from his hammer and leant back in his chair, the hand returning to his ginger beard, stroking and caressing it.

“Now first of all, I’m here to ask you something… the Nerubian Broodmother has chosen me to ask you something. They want to ally with you to take on this horde that has gathered at your doorstep.” Gabrielle said in monotone, not caring what the king may think of this treaty. “Also, we are hunting to the Stones of Alcamor. We are needing them for our quest… we’re not just random wonderers… and you may want to respect your elders better than that, king.” Gabrielle said monotone except for the word king, which he used a sarcastic emphasis.

“How dare you come into my palace and tell me what to do!” This time the King did stand and he drew his hammer; pointing the blunted mallet at the quest party.

Salvius bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to let his annoyance show as he spoke. “You must forgive our auxiliary, Vagrund rex. As he says he is earthborn, and like most of their kind he makes a habit of talking out of turn. He doesn’t speak for all of us, although he does speak some truth.”

“Do you think I gained my position on this throne by respecting my elders and forgiving insolent individuals? No! Do you think I care for an alliance with Man-Eaters who have never helped us before, not even when the Orcs besieged the beautiful Crystal Hold of Azulfa? No!” King Vagrund smashed his hammer against the floor, creating a resonating noise that was soon followed by the various clicking of flintlock weaponry, held by dwarven men hidden in various alcoves dotting the walls and ceiling. “The Princess shall remain here under our protection, the rest, to the dungeons with them. And make sure this one,” King Vagrund looked at Gabriel. “Gets a nice, comfortable cell.” This time the King added his own sarcasm to his statement. Before the questing party knew it, more hidden Dwarves had walked out and dragon-diamond cuffs had been placed on their hands.

“You’ll have a job getting out of that. They say that even Kronos himself couldn’t smash the rock, forge with it yes, destroy it or break it, never.” King Vagrund sat down once more, his face covered with fury, and as Gabriel and the others were dragged away; a slight hint of content.

Azazeal849
04-12-2013, 09:40 PM
DUN MORIGA, NOW

“The Princess shall remain here under our protection, the rest, to the dungeons with them. And make sure this one,” King Vagrund looked at Gabriel. “Gets a nice, comfortable cell.” This time the King added his own sarcasm to his statement.

“With respect, sir!” Salvius cut in, in a last-ditch attempt to salvage the situation, “This is a mistake! We're trying to save the Imperium, and your city with it!”

Before the questing party knew it, more hidden Dwarves had walked out, bearing dragon-diamond cuffs. Two approached Salvius from either side, one of them moving to snap the shackle around his wrist. Cursing Gabriel's name, the centurion reacted instinctively. He dropped his left hand, closed his fist around the handle of his grounded shield, and punched it forwards at chest height to smash the heavy iron boss into the dwarf's face. The strike was powerful enough to dent the visor of the guard's sallet helm and send him skidding back through the furs that covered the floor. Salvius reached across his body for his gladius and dragged it free of its scabbard, a long arc that ended with the hilt crunching into the teeth of the second dwarf. The dwarf dropped the manacles he was holding and fell, and Salvius rammed the iron-rimmed edge of his shield into the dwarf's throat to keep him down. The centurion's indigo cloak swirled around him as he spun to face the other guards.

He was met by the ominous clicking of steel hammers cocking back. Flintlock weaponry, held by dwarven men hidden in various alcoves dotting the walls and ceiling. The centurion gritted his teeth. Dwarven guns were slow to load, but their lead bullets made a mockery of both shields and armour. Salvius stared down the raised gun muzzles for a moment longer, his face a mask of simmering anger, and then swore as he threw both his sword and shield down onto the carpet of furs.

The two guards he had floored came forward again, and this time one punched a gauntleted fist into his stomach that he felt even through his armour, followed by another to the neck guard of his helmet that drove him down onto one knee.

“You’ll have a job getting out of that.” said the king as the guards secured the group's manacles. “They say that even Kronos himself couldn’t smash the rock, forge with it yes, destroy it or break it, never.” King Vagrund sat down once more, his face covered with fury, and as Gabriel and the others were dragged away; a slight hint of content.

Not long after, Salvius sat on a stone slab beside a seething praetorian Altius, watching moodily through the bars of their cell as the dwarves outside threw his weapons haphazardly onto a pile of the groups equipment. One stamped contemptuously down on his shield, cracking the layered plywood. Salvius exhaled sharply down his nose, and turned to Koronus.

“Well,” he growled, “The phrase 'fucking Earthborn' springs to mind...”


* * * * * *

EMOR, NOW

Predictably, the first thing Marcius' three children had done was bombard him with questions. Unable to stave them off any longer, Marcius had given up and begun to recount his stories of terrifying sea-monsters, fire-breathing dragons, and of Dwarven cannons thundering their defiance at the enemies of Namor.

“This is a war of the gods as well as men.” he told the three as they sat together in the pleasantly cool living room of the villa. Several of the house slaves were on hand, and though they were quiet Marcius could tell that they were just as keen to listen. “I met no fewer than 3 of them on campaign - luckily these ones were on our side.”

“Like who?” Diana asked, her eyes wide beneath the curly hair she had inherited from her mother.

“Mars himself came to warn me outside Combrogia, and he gave me that sword.” Marcius paused and looked down at his right hand. “I did not know it at the time, but I'm very glad that he took it back.”

“Why would you give up a gift from Mars, dad?” Marcus asked, looking slightly shocked.

"I could not have beaten Septim nor Achilles without it, that's true...but it was a cursed blade. A weapon of demons.” The legatus let out a shuddering breath, in a rare show of vulnerability. “I am happy to see it away, and hopefully back in the hands of someone who can control it better than me.”

“But if it's a demon sword...” Diana put in hesitantly, “What if it goes back to a demon?”

Marcius smiled at his eldest daughter's astuteness. “I have to trust Mars, as all Namorians should. I know that he and at least two other gods are on our side. One of them was your namesake.” He reached forward with his good hand and ruffled his daughter's hair. “She sent one of her sons, who struck a vital blow for us against Achilles.”

“And the third?” Lycinia asked, cocking an eyebrow while Aurelia sat playing with a tiny carved horse around her skirts.

“I'm not sure.” Marcius admitted. “He called himself the Hunter, and sent a dire wolf called Silverwick to help us.”

“I heard some of the men talking about him...but where is he now?”

Marcius' face turned grave, his heavy frown-lines deepening. “He fell at Hercinia, defeating a demon that tried to kill me while I was unconscious from my fight with Achilles.”

Aurelia looked up from her toy and looked at her father plaintively. “If he was a messenger from the gods...how could they let him die?”

Marcius shifted himself off his couch to sit on the floor next to his youngest daughter.

“Only the gods are immortal, sweetheart. Not so their children. But that works both ways, because otherwise we would never have beaten Achilles before the Crocolykes tipped the scales at Hercinia.”

“So we're friends with the Crocolykes now?” Marcus asked, who was still disbelieving of that part of his father's story.

Marcius grunted, his face creasing into a wolfish smile. “Not exactly son. You know to keep your friends close, but if you keep your enemies even closer, you have a better chance of knowing what they are up to.” He pressed his good hand into the stone floor, warm from the fire heating it from below, and used it to lever himself to his feet. “Now. You should be getting to bed, so that your mother and I can decide what we are up to.”

He planted a kiss on Aurelia's forehead, as Lycinia motioned Hercinia forward and the senior house slave began to usher the three children through the house, taking the other slaves with her.

“Now,” Marcius said once he and Lycinia were alone, his smile returning. “We should be celebrating your achievements! Securing the Guild and brokering a truce with the Romans even though I was killing them less than a month ago.”

Lycinia paused to choose her words as she sat down next to Marcius, trying to gauge her husband's thoughts. “Septim can be trusted.” she said after a moment. “In spite of appearances.”

“Can he now.” Marcius said, before adopting a less ambiguous smile and putting an arm around his wife's waist. “Apologies, I'm doing Isis a disservice, not to mention your shrewd manoeuvring.”

“Would it make you feel better to know that I had the same fears?” Lycinia said, smiling tiredly.

“Yes.” Marcius answered, brushing Lycinia's hair behind her ear with his good hand. “Because it would tell me I'm not just insane.”

“Then feel better.” Lycinia said as she tipped her cheek into his palm. There was a moment of silence between the two as they enjoyed the intimacy. “Even the emperor probably worries about these new allies of ours. But he obviously trusts you to lead them.”

Marcius raised his eyebrows. “He does?”

Lycinia got up to pour two cups of wine from a carafe that sat on a high table in the corner of the room, a working desk that had been cleared to stand the drink and a bowl of fruit. She also reached into a drawer to produce a heavy golden seal edged in Namorian script. Lycinia carried over the cups and handed one to her husband before sitting down and allowing him to examine the gold disc. It carried the profile of emperor Galen Claudius above the spread-winged eagle of the Imperium, with a hammer and sun clutched in its talons to represent the provinces of Dun Moriga and Afragia respectively.

“He trusts you enough to promote you to Dux Orientem and let you take charge of the allied expedition to Dun Moriga.” Lycinia said.


* * * * * *

“Is it true then?” Ovidius asked Zar Stormwraith as the two men threaded their way through the twilit streets of Emor. Both had found themselves summoned to the Marcius family villa. “You're the son of Diana who helped my master defeat a demi-god?”

He grinned appreciatively as they circled round the side of the villa, heading towards the main entrance. The spy halted as they passed one of the windows into the slave quarters. Behind the drawn curtains, the chamber beyond was clearly lit by candlelight. Ovidius grinned again.

“I'll be along in a minute.” he said, and reached up to grab the limewashed windowsill with one hand before vaulting up and disappearing over it.

Inside the spartanly furnished chamber, a familiar figure with dark brown skin and glossy hair bound by simple rings knelt in prayer in front of a small idol of Ra. She whipped round at the muffled sound of Ovidius' soft shoes hitting the floor.

“Heus, Suriyana.” the spy said in colloquial Namorian, straightening from the crouch he had used to cushion his drop to the floor.

“Gods alive!” Afragia said, her wide eyes glittering slightly in the candle light, “Is the front door not good enough for you any more?”

“I wanted to see you before I kept my appointment with domina.”

Afragia's face settled back into its usual mocking smile. “Usually people call first. You know, meet in the forum, suggest a drink?”

In response, Ovidius produced a skin from inside his cloak. “Will wine do you? It's Afragian.”

Afragia laughed, rose from her kneeling position by the shrine, and stepped forward to kiss him. Ovidius crossed his hands under the girl's thighs and lifted her up into his arms, but they were given only a few seconds grace before there was a commotion of running and shouting outside. The spy and the eastern slave reluctantly drew back from each other.

“Mars' teeth.” Ovidius cursed, “Do they always have to start a riot during an intimate moment?”

With a quick pull of his arms, he hoisted himself back up into the window to see what was going on.


* * * * * *

Seeing Gaius Octavius step across the atrium and into the villa proper, Marcius stepped forward and embraced his cousin.

“It feels like too long, Gaius.” the commander said as he drew back from the hug. “I was sorry to hear about young Titus – is he recovering?”

“He is well, thank you.” Octavius replied with a nod of his chiselled head, “Though Seppia still worries. Hopefully when this war is over we can all worry less.”

“It's far from over.” Marcius said grimly, thinking of the southern expedition, of the eastern provinces still under attack, and of the demons and belligerent gods who could play their hands at any time. And even after that, there were the Earthborn to consider. He checked himself, and adopted a more magnanimous tone. “Though our legions aren't the only ones fighting, I hear. You have my thanks for supporting Lycinia in getting to the bottom of the mystery at the Guild.”

Octavius looked slightly pained – though a loyal Namorian, he was also an alumnus of the Mages' Guild, and its utter destruction was something the politician was still coming to terms with.

“None needed.” he said after a moment, shrugging his shoulders and adjusting his toga. “Lycinia is family - would you not have done the same? Besides, we all know who's doing the real fighting. And making unlikely allies into the bargain!”

“A sign of the times.” Marcius growled. “The emperor must have had a hard time spinning this new alliance to the people.”

“No harder than you spinning it to your own men, I imagine.”

“True.”

Octavius was right, Marcius thought soberly. Despite their victories and the return to their home city, morale among his legion was uncomfortably low. The dwarven auxiliaries were troubled by the worsening news from Dun Moriga, and fear was turning to anger and impatience to march to the aid of their homeland. The other legionaries were restive and uneasy with their new allies. The Romans and Greeks they had all fought against mere days ago, and many had also been blooded during the Crocolyke uprisings of previous campaigns.

“So you march to relieve Dun Moriga?” Octavius asked after a moment.

“Yes.” Marcius confirmed. “But this phase of the campaign will be much harder.”

“How so?”

Marcius frowned, picturing the map of Eternum's northern continent in his head. The southern highway led through war-ravaged Combrogia, which after the rout of the 9th legion could still be infested with vikings. They may have hidden from the overwhelming force of praetor Maximus' army as it marched for the dividing sea and the southern wastes, but Marcius' smaller force might provide a more tempting target. After that there was the road east into the mountains, where Ech Zilidar straddled the main route into the Afragian desert and, ultimately, the gates of Tartarus where the final battle would have to be fought if the demons arose in earnest. Would Ech Zilidar still be in dwarven hands by the time the legion and their allies reached it?

Up until now, the Fulminata had been fighting battles on their terms. Open engagements - with time for deployment and room to manoeuvre, and the opportunity to bring to bear the brutal artillery-supported meatgrinder where Namorians excelled. Things would be different in the forests, where the legions would be strung out in march column and constantly forced to screen their flanks from ambushes. In Dun Moriga they would be forced to fight underground – units could be isolated, communication would be a nightmare, and many of the dwarven tunnels were narrow, dark or twisting enough to preclude the use of the legion's most powerful weapons. The conquest of Dun Moriga had been several centuries ago, but it had been a bloody campaign not easily forgotten. And as yet, Marcius didn't even know what his men were to face in those underground cities.

“The Fulminata are less suited to the kind of battles I expect to encounter.” the legatus answered at length, trying to put his complicated thoughts into words that his non-military cousin would understand.

“Having immortals on your side has to count for something.” Octavius countered optimistically.

“As long as they remain on our side.” Marcius growled softly.

The two men turned as Lycinia appeared at the door, ushering in Ann and Zar. Octavius stepped forward to kiss his cousin on both cheeks, while Marcius inclined his head towards the earthborn and the son of Artemis. Lycinia noticed his more relaxed stance towards Ann, especially compared to what she had been told of their first meeting at the emperor's palace. She flickered a questioning eyebrow in her husband's direction, but didn't say anything. Marcius soothed her with a smile; Ann von Bayern might be an Earthborn and fighting for no cause but her own, but she was also a hand of Ra, and as far as Marcius could determine, the Afragian sun god was currently on their side.

He was about to greet the newcomers and ask their thoughts on the expedition east when their house slave Afragia stepped in, leading the last of their summoned advisors – although in this case, 'agent' was probably a better description. Aulus Ovidius pulled off his cloak and let Afragia take it as he bowed to Marcius and Lycinia.

“My apologies, dominus. I was held up by new word from refugees who have just arrived in the city, some of them from Dun Moriga and Afragia.”

Marcius didn't see the unease in Afragia's stance as she hovered behind Ovidius, though Lycinia did. The dark-skinned girl was obviously worried about her parents' homeland, which was the source of her slave name. Whatever news had come from the east, it was not good.

“And what did they say?” Lycinia prompted Ovidius.

“Have any of them seen Salvius?” Marcius put in, reasoning that his trusted centurion must have reached Ech Zilidar by now.

“No, dominus.” the spy said with a shake of his head. “But Ech itself is besieged. By some sort of monsters that the Dun Morigans are calling 'orcs'.”

“And what about Afragia?” Lycinia pressed as her husband digested the news.

“Nothing concrete, but there's talk of raids on the borders, and strange forces gathering in the desert. They're human, or at least humanoid, and they seem to have appeared out of nowhere just like the Greeks and Romans.”

“More immortals, no doubt.” Marcius growled.

“We made allies of these ones.” Octavius pointed out, “Perhaps we could do the same to them?”

“Ech Zilidar bestrides the main route to Afragia,” said Marcius. “And it's besieged. We would have to defeat the invaders there first, and in underground tunnels that could take weeks...even months.”

The Bartender
04-17-2013, 12:44 PM
Odin's Grotto

Isabella was astonished how amazing this planet was, there were so many different races on this planet which all had the methodes to become the dominating species. She had seen many planets with intelligent life-forms but they had always eliminated all other species which could be dangerous for them. It was very interesting to see how so different species could co-exist like that.
As she was invited to meet the ones called Odin-saplings;
"Thank you for this great honor, I hope I can help you in some way or another." The young marine said to her hosts.

---

Dun Moriga

“The Princess shall remain here under our protection, the rest, to the dungeons with them. And make sure this one,” King Vagrund looked at Gabriel. “Gets a nice, comfortable cell.” This time the King added his own sarcasm to his statement."
As the Dwarf king said this, Numiera was already in movement and dashed toward the exit and as the guards tried to stop her, slipped right between them then jumped on the creates outide the building and climbed the nearest wall up but as she reached the parapet, she felt a hard impact on her head as a dwarf hit her with a hammer. A quiet crack could be heard as one of her horns broke due of the strike.
Numiera fell about 5 meters down the wall and the dwarfs caught her before she hit the ground. They then put the diamond handguffs on her and carried her into the prison.


Emor, now

Ann had received new information from both of her superiors, the earth’s military command and also from the “Rising Sun”, all of them weren’t happy about the fact she had lost two supply ships as well as leaving Talos behind but after explaining the godly interfering, she got the next objectives;

She was to help the Namorian military in order to defend themselves against their enemies. These were the orders of the military; Ann’s Father-in-law’s orders were more delicate; she was to go into Afragia and eliminate all pagans and heretics who tried to gain Ra’s favor. Her “father” would also send her a new support ship, but it would be the last one she receives.

She had also received the information that her sisters shuttle had fallen on the planet and no connection could have been made to her since that. Ann had never been in very good terms with Isabella but this was still quite a shock to her.

Later Ann was in the house of Legatus Marcius in order to take part of a dinner and to hear about the plans the 18th legion. Much new information like the Romans being allies of the Namorians or that the Afragian was in war with other immortal enemies who she would deal with. The search group who was looking for the stones was gone missing and the Dwarf cities were under siege of armies of orcs.

She wasn’t interested about the dwarfs and so she decided to talk to Marcius about her plans; The young priestess who still had a bandage over her eye as well as around her arms walked to the Namorians who were already discussing about how they would act next;
“Legatus Marcius, I have received my new orders and will be leaving soon toward Afragian in order to take control over the temples of Ra there so I can’t help you by your mission in Dun Moriga but I will pray for your success on your mission.” Saying this she turned to Marius’s Wife Lycinia;

“Thank you for being able to join you this evening but I shall leave toward Afragia tomorrow so I will retire for the night.” After saying this, Ann left the house of the Legat in order to prepare her next move.

La Volpe
04-18-2013, 01:03 AM
Watching his companions make a mad dash in reaction to the guards closing in on them caused Kuronus to launch into action. As Salivus struck out, he literally pounced on top of of the unfortunate pair coming towards the werewolf. He let out a rather loud snarl as he pinned the dwarfs down, but the primal warning was cut short by the sound of the flintlock hammers being pulled back. Slowly rising off of the pinned dwarfs, the ranger slowly turned, sniffing out the hidden gunman. As he rotated though, a rather painful sounding thud echoed through his head, and the sound of his body falling over soon followed.

"Damn dwarfs..." Kuronus cursed as he came to chained with Salvius. Looking over to his companion, Kuronus couldn't help but grin at his comment.

“Well,” he growled, “The phrase 'fucking Earthborn' springs to mind...”

"I fully agree my friend... But now what do we do?" He asked, feeling his skin start to crawl in frustration.

Azazeal849
04-22-2013, 04:59 PM
EMOR, NOW

"Thank you for being able to join you this evening but I shall leave toward Afragia tomorrow so I will retire for the night."

"Of course." Lycinia nodded, hitching up a smile, "I'll escort you to the door."

She flicked her eyebrows at Ovidius and Afragia in a subtle gesture to follow as she guided the priestess of Ra out of the villa.

"If you don't mind me saying, priestess," Lycinia said as they left the others behind and stepped out into the cool of the atrium. "You seem to know a lot about what's going on in Afragia right now - if you were to share your knowledge with us we might be able to help each other further."


* * * * * *

DUN MORIGA, NOW

"I fully agree my friend...but now what do we do?" Koronus asked, feeling his skin start to crawl in frustration."

"Praetor Graccus will get us out of here when he hears about it." Altius put in. The praetorian was still fuming.

"Maybe." Salvius agreed doubtfully, "But assuming he's still on the walls with the rest of our gallant legionaries, it might be up to the princess to talk mighty Vagrund round..."

The centurion gave his manacles another experimental tug and, as expected, they showed no more sign of breaking than last time. Princess Nesara might have an undeniable charm, but even she would have to work to convince a stubborn bastard like king Vagrund. Salvius' gaze drifted from his shackled hands to the despondent lump on the floor that was Numiera. One of her stubby horns had been broken off and was oozing blood, alongside a scalp that was rapidly swelling and bruising from the hilt-smash of the dwarven warhammer. The half-breed girl's treatment angered him a lot more than he had expected it to.

"Fuck the gods..." he growled under his breath, and went back to silently cursing Gabriel.

Epostle
04-23-2013, 05:06 PM
Gabrielle

As the dwarven king gave his command for the party to be locked up, many different things occurred. Whether you had Salvius being an idiot and getting into conflict, or Numiera trying to make a bold escape, they all failed and were immediately handcuffed. Gabrielle could sense he was next. Instead of putting up a fight, he lifted his hands in front of him and calmly allowed the cuffs to be placed on him. Gabrielle let out a sarcastic “Hmph,” trying to let the king know that he was not intimidated. In fact, Gabrielle found it quite funny.

The king then gazed upon Gabrielle as he then let Gabrielle have a piece of his mind. Gabrielle then retaliated with his own words as the guards grabbed him by each arm and said monotonically “Just so you know, king, there is nothing you can do to break me. Now you’re kingdom is gonna fall just because you wanted to show your power as a king. Nothing more than a spoiled piece of royalty you are.”

A little while later, Gabrielle was placed in the “good” cell. Everywhere was leaking of water where it had been trapped within Dun Moriga. The cell also had broken flooring where it had been poorly treated over the years, so walking on it proved to be a bit of a task. The worst part about the cell is that no matter where you were, there was truly no place to sit, except in the middle of the cell. The floor was just wide and sturdy enough to hold someone’s weight without it crumbling from beneath them. Gabrielle opened up and said “You all were fools to think that you were going to escape the clutches of dwarven guards. Also, you were even more foolish for thinking you can ally them so easily. For what moment did you think they were going to accept us as allies if you, Namorians, would never help them? The taste of forsaken treaties is very bitter. Just like this dwarven king.” Gabrielle then walked over to the stone flooring that was actually sturdy, and sat upon it. He then brought his legs up and crossed them in a meditation position and clasped his hands together, trying to get a sense of everything that is going around him as he continued to speak.

“Everyone of you… do you realize what is going to happen to his kingdom due to your ignorance? His kingdom, ramshacked by a horde that would destroy even the mightiest of kingdoms. This king was rather nice, he actually let us live rather than die instantly, which will prove to be a mistake if he thinks these cell doors will hold us forever.” Gabrielle noticed that the cuffs upon him were in fact very sturdy and couldn’t be broken. Knowing this, Gabrielle was trying to slowly figure out a way that not only could he get out of the cell, but also take the cuffs off. The cuffs could come in handy further down the road if needed.

“You all can be mad at me, or you could be thanking me. If we didn’t get pulled in here, then we would be wasting our time with talk and gorging our faces in food. In other words, we would have been wasting time for days rather than getting closer to the stones. The only snag in this little plan are the cuffs. Even then though, nothing lasts forever… not even your anger, Salvius.” Gabrielle said as he continued to meditate.

A few moments late, not entirely focusing on the possible rabble going on around him, Gabrielle then took a quick deep breathe and whispered, “… it can’t be… how did he…” he said in a surprised tone that was low pitched.

Chaaru

After the little stitch/worm, burrowed under the ground with the sword hate, it eventually broke through to a cavern deep beneath the Earth’s crust. Minor chunks of rock fell down along with the worm and landed. It wasn’t exactly a peaceful landing, but then again, falling a couple hundred feet wouldn’t be comfortable to anything. As it landed, the sword then smacked the ground with a metallic sounding thud. The stitch then let out a high pitch, silent scream as it began to grow and mutate. After 10 seconds or more, Chaaru was completely rematerialized into his normal form. He then rolled his neck around, making it pop and crack as he then picked up Hate. “I know what you did, Shacorai. Don’t think you can fool me.” Chaaru said as he began to walk a couple of steps towards the sword.

Chaaru then picked up the sword and heard the laughter coming from it. “You are smarter than expected Chaaru. Never think though that you can use my power… I won’t allow it!!!” Shacorai said to Chaaru as the voice suddenly stopped. “That were-beast was a fool, to think he could have killed me with something so weak.” Chaaru said until he felt another presence in his mind. Chaaru then began to speak in his mind as he smiled “I never thought in another thousand years feel your presence again. So what is it that you want?”

The voice said “It’s good hearing from you again, Chaaru. I would have honestly thought they would have figured out a way to kill you, but behold, you evolved once again.”

“Enough with the pleasantries, why are you contacting me now, Gabrielle?” Chaaru was beginning to speak calmly as he began walking through the dark caverns.

“It’s because I’ve gotten into a bit of a snag, and you are the only one capable of breaking me out. The only problem is the cuffs I have on. They’re Dragon-Diamond cuffs… but as anyone knows, they can’t be smashed.” Gabrielle said with a bit of concern, but was making out a plan.

“What is your point, Gabrielle? Everyone knows that! I know that you know that you’re not going to be smashing them in order to remove them, which is why we need a key… or a seal… but if you sealed the cuffs, wouldn’t that just make your predicament harder.” Chaaru said in confusion.

“I’m not going to make any kind of seal though, Chaaru. Dragon-Diamond cuffs are both supernatural and are made of the strongest dragon hide and rock known to man. With dragons being immune to such magical entities, they would be impossible to not only try to use spells on them, but also brute force. This is where our little seal is going to come in… I know that you know some handy spells that are forbidden to use by both gods and demons… which is why your seal is going to come in handy. I’m not going to break them Chaaru, I’m going to leave them right where they are… and you’re going to do some… sneaking.”

Chaaru then laughed as he said “I hate sneaking you dumbass… but I love the way you think. I’ll be there quickly, Gabrielle… they’ll never know what hit them.” Chaaru then smiled.

“But remember, Chaaru, you cannot kill them or harm them.” Gabrielle said sternly in Chaaru’s mind.

“Uggghhhh… ok… but Gabrielle… once this is said and done with, I must tell you something about your sword… you’re not going to like it.” Chaaru said as he sprouted a couple of disformed wings from his back that were made of his worm-like stitches, woven and actually moved around a lot. He then took flight as he said “I know you’re there, Shacorai… but where’s the rest of you?” He said noticing part of the swords essence had somehow disappeared.

Azazeal849
04-24-2013, 04:03 PM
"You all were fools to think that you were going to escape the clutches of dwarven guards."

"Oh, and the earthborn speaks..." Altius muttered under his breath.

"Shut up if you like your face the way it is, Gabriel." Salvius growled, closing his eyes as if dearly wishing that he could break down the dividing wall with his bare hands and make the threat a reality. "As I recall the only reason we're here instead of in friendly talks with allies is because you decided to mouth off at their fucking king."

"You're even more foolish for thinking you can ally them so easily. For what moment did you think they were going to accept us as allies if you, Namorians, would never help them? The taste of forsaken treaties is very bitter. Just like this dwarven king."

"I'm not sure if you know the first thing about our world, earthborn..." Salvius replied, rising suddenly to his feet. Gabriel's calm tone was infuriating him, and without Nesara here he had no reason to restrain his anger. "But they are our allies. Dun Moriga is a Namorian protectorate! Or did you miss the Ferrata legionaries fighting at the gate when we were climbing down the fucking cavern wall?"

"Everyone of you...do you realise what is going to happen to his kingdom due to your ignorance? His kingdom, ransacked by a horde that would destroy even the mightiest of kingdoms. This king was rather nice, he actually let us live rather than die instantly, which will prove to be a mistake if he thinks these cell doors will hold us forever."

"Mars' teeth!" Salvius shouted. "Where's a guard to shut you up if you're not going to speak with more fucking sense? With the Alcamor Stones we might stand a chance against that horde. All we needed were supplies and news about the roads ahead, and instead we're in here having to listen to you."

"You all can be mad at me, or you could be thanking me. If we didn't get pulled in here, then we would be wasting our time with talk and gorging our faces in food. In other words, we would have been wasting time for days rather than getting closer to the Stones. The only snag in this little plan are the cuffs."

"This is a plan?" Salvius thundered incredulously. "You are literally too stupid to argue with. I don't know how they do things on your shit-hole planet, but if you'd been listening to a word of our plan you'd have known that it was to pick up supplies and carry on to Afragia right away, because getting the Stones was our best chance of helping these people as well as mine. You think we'd be sitting around feasting while Ech and the rest of the Imperium burns? Some of us understand duty!"

The centurion slammed his restrained fists into the stone wall of the cell as the word reminded him of how close he was to failing his assigned mission.

"What have you done? Where in the twelve hells were you when the Vikings attacked? Name one thing you've contributed apart from actively sabotage our mission just now! I hope all Sky Men aren't all as bloody pointless as you are because if so the Southern expedition is well and truly fucked."

"Nothing lasts forever...not even your anger, Salvius."

"We'll see about that." the centurion snarled, and slumped back into his seat.

Death of Korzan
04-24-2013, 09:06 PM
Ech Ziladar

A light pitter-patter emerged deep within the halls, light toes slapping against the hard and cold rock; the noise imitated the sound of someone clicking with their tongue pressed to the top of their mouth. The noise came close and within seconds the questing party could hear the feet tapping the ground.

“Who goes there?” a jailer in the distance called, before a gurgling noise came through the corridors and the sound of an armored dwarf hitting the floor echoed…loudly. The noise of running continued until even more gurgling noises were heard, followed by the sound of armor crashing against stone.

Soon enough, the sound of running stopped abruptly, right outside of the main party’s cell. There was a clanking of chains and then the creaking as the metal jail door swung open; before it could hit the wall it was held in place however. Into the room walked in a slender, almost lanky man with long mousy brown hair that was stuffed roughly underneath his ears.
Over his body he wore a mix of chain, hide and fur armor, protecting him in the most vital places whilst giving him mobility and stealth. At his waist sat two rather deadly looking daggers and a few small pellets of unknown use. His face was chiseled and would be attractive if not for the huge scar that sat on the left side of his face. His eyes were a milky-blue color and his nose pointed in an almost unattractive way, his mouth was left in a constant sneer and his teeth were perfectly cleaned.

The man took a step towards each captive and began to undo their cuffs, the stone smashed to the floor with a huge amount of noise, the man winced each time they fell but he knew as well as everyone else in the room that he would not be able to hold the cuffs up; he was the not a majorly strong man. Once everyone was un-cuffed, he placed a finger to his lips and spoke in a hushed whisper:

“Shhh…follow me and I’ll escort you to Afragia…” And with that the man turned out of the cell.

La Volpe
04-24-2013, 10:26 PM
Kuronus watched with slight amusement as Salvius argued with Gabriel through the wall. Both made solid points in there statements, but in the end it mattered little as long as they were chained up down in this forsaken dungeon. Many thoughts began to run through the rangers mind as he stared at the cuffs now holding him. Then suddenly, a serious of sounds lead to there cell opening up and a stranger walked in, only to set the quest party free from the cuffs. Kuronus rose to his full height after his cuffs fell free. He looked the man dead in the eyes, trying to see if the man was lying to them all, and leading them to some other doom. But there was no deceit in the mans eyes.

“Shhh…follow me and I’ll escort you to Afragia…” And with that the man turned out of the cell. The ranger followed the man, but stopped outside the cell of there earthborn member. Grabbing the stranger by the arm, Kuronus pointed to the door. He looked to Salvius as he did, waiting to see how his friend would react to his choice. They needed him, whether Salvius would admit it or not.

The Bartender
04-25-2013, 06:41 AM
Ignore

Azazeal849
04-29-2013, 01:51 PM
EMOR, THE NEXT MORNING

It was an hour after sunrise, and the mustering ground outside the city walls was a hive of activity. The Fulminata had been reinforced; first by the men of the 10th cohort who had detached in the wake of the battle of the River Minerva, and then by the mauled 9th legion, which had retreated to Emor after the loss of Combrogia province. With the 18th legion's order of battle significantly shuffled, the men were training hard to retain cohesion - even on the morning that the army was due to march. The legionaries rotated between psysical training, formation drill and combat manoeuvres: on one side of the well-trampled field, legionaries stripped to their tunics were being led through a punishing exercise circuit. One man paused for a moment to catch his breath and received a strike across the back from his centurion's vine staff. In another area, legionaries with cocked pila stood to receive the charge of an imaginary enemy. At the right end of the formation, a thickset centurion roared orders.

"Pila...iace!" The ranked soldiers skipped three steps forward and hurled their javelins towards a set of wooden targets, where they thumped into the wood or the hard ground. The legionaries had already halted on the next step, swords hissing from scabbards into the sunlight. "Parati!" The men braced behind their shields. "Recipio!" With a mighty shout, the legionaries slammed their shields forwards, followed by a rapid thrust of the gladii in their right hands.

At the back of the camp the legion's dwarven auxilliaries serviced, unlimbered and dry-fired their remaining cannons, seemingly galvanised by the imminent and belated departure for Dun Moriga. To one side the Greeks and the Crocolykes conducted their own training, while Septim's Romans made a point of drilling at as far a distance from their Namorian counterparts as possible, despite their highly similar fighting styles. The resounding shouts of "Dex! Dex! Dex, sin, dex!" carried over to the Fulminata soldiers as the red-crests marched and wheeled with machine precision. At a signal from a trumpeteer, the nearest Romans bunched together into a missile-repelling testudo formation, and continued the advance with a steady chant of "Ro-ma! Ro-ma!"

Slightly ahead of the other civilians who had gathered off the highway to watch the soldiers train, Lycinia observed from the sidelines. Knowing that the presence of non-combatant women in the camp was frowned upon, she tactfully waited near the sentry line for the signal for the end of the watch. Her husband was, in accordance with tradition, training alongside his men with the other senior officers. Lycinia could pick him out inamongst the sword-sparring soldiers of 1st cohort, wearing a simple blue tunic and duelling with one of the centurions. Forced to fight left-handed, the legion commander was clearly struggling, though it wasn't for lack of effort.

As the horn blew to signal the end of morning training, a tribune took the opportunity to inform Marcius that his wife was waiting for him. After sheathing his sword and towelling the sweat from his face, he passed command to Cassius and crossed the field to meet her.

"Apologies." he grinned, cupping his wife's shoulders as much as his bandaged hand would allow and kissing her forehead. "I wasn't expecting you until the send-off. I suppose the kids are hiding there in the crowd too?"

"I decided to indulge them." Lycinia said, returning the grin before adopting a more serious expression. "Since you're about to leave on a mission that might be even more important than praetor Maximus' expedition south. On the subject of important missions, Ovidius and Afragia are on their way - they left with Ann von Bayern this morning."

"That's good." Marcius nodded. "I just hope she can make this work. That priestess is the closest thing to a trustworthy Earthborn I've come across."

"And even then it's because she serves a god over and above her people?" Lycinia pointed out, raising one eyebrow playfully.

Marcius frowned. "True. But it's reassuring to know that*she's answerable to someone."

Lycinia raised herself onto her toes, cocking her head slightly for balance as she peered over her husband's shoulder at the legionaries who were now gathering their equipment and falling in. "How are things in the camp? Any better?"

"The legionaries and our new allies seem to be more focused on out-performing each other rather than killing each other, which you could call an improvement." Marcius said. "But the word from the centurions is that the men are still looking over their shoulders. I'm not sure yet how easy the Greeks and the Romans will be to bend to command if there's a disagreement - especially Septim since his men make up just over half of the task force."

"He's a man of honour. I'm sure of it."

"I know." Marcius smiled. "I'm just wary of democratising any of the important decisions. Hopefully that honour of his will be enough to keep him anchored to purpose."

"Well, if not that, then your ability to kick his arse."

Marcius grunted an ironic laugh. "One way or the other, we'll know*for sure by the end of the next battle..."


* * * * * *

ECH ZILIDAR, NOW

Grabbing the stranger by the arm, Koronus pointed to the door. He looked to Salvius as he did, waiting to see how his friend would react to his choice. They needed him, whether Salvius would admit it or not. The centurion was currently looking down at the nearest Dun Morigan guard, as if trying to ascertain if the dwarf was dead or simply disabled. No doubt this forced escape wouldn't help their current public relations nightmare, but one of Salvius' few virtues was an ability to take an opportunity when it presented itself rather than waste time with questions. As such he just stepped forward and picked up the rest of his equipment from the haphazard pile the guards had left it in, before belatedly noticing Koronus' questioning gaze. He stared back for a long moment before exhaling and nodding assent, trusting his friend's judgement.

As the mysterious stranger released the final member of their group, Salvius finished tying the cheekpieces of his helmet, crossed the stone corridor in two short strides, and thumped the round pommel of his gladius into the centre of Gabriel's mask with a significant portion of his strength.

"Unless you're going to say or do something genuinely useful." he hissed at the earthborn. "I suggest you fucking well shut up from now on."

"We need to go." Altius said with a grim sense of stating the obvious as he stepped out of the first cell with the still-dazed Numiera slung over his armoured shoulder. "What are we doing about that Afragian princess of yours?"

"Lets get out of here first." Salvius replied as he hefted his cracked shield in his left hand. "And maybe by then I'll have some idea how to answer that question."

The Bartender
04-29-2013, 06:23 PM
Emor, last night

"If you don't mind me saying, priestess," Lycinia said as they left the others behind and stepped out into the cool of the atrium. "You seem to know a lot about what's going on in Afragia right now - if you were to share your knowledge with us we might be able to help each other further."

Ann looked at the two persons next to Lycinia, servats of her. Most of the informations she had gotten were top secret but there were also things she could tell;
"I have received information that the enemies in Afragian are egyptians, the people who in ancient times started to pray to my god, Ra. Only problem is that they have splitted into fractions under different gods and all of them have different plans. I will be contacting the one leading the fraction of Ra and then finish off the others. I have also received supplies to get there in few days. If you wish to help me, you can come with me." She looked at the servants, "I will be leaving when the sun rises, I will be at the western gates. Thank you for your hospitality Mrs. Lycinia, i hope I see you again." She turned away and walked toward the HQ of the erthborns in Emor she had still some preperations to be done...

Next Morning, still in Emor

Ann was standing at the support ship she had received from the higher ups. It was only the ship to transport energy, no weapons as Talos's weapons were still in orbit, waiting to be brought down. She was wearing the typical earthborn Mecha pilot suit with the exception of a headband around her right eye and her arms to cover the feathers. Her sword was laying next to her as well as a small backbag for other supplies she had.
After half an hour the two Namorians appeared and their travel toward Afragian started, with high speed and in the air...

---

Ech Zilidar, now Inside Numieras head

Numiera looked under her and jumped into air as she saw the pure white stone. She looked around and saw only darkness, the small white spot was totally surrounded by pure darkness. She heard something and turned around only to hear the same noise behind her. As she turned again she was looking at, herself. Right before her stood a person who looked just like her, or at least almost;
The person before her was wearing a black armor and held a large halberd with an obsidian edge. The horns of this other Numiera were all broken except for one and this one was much longer and other Numiera looked like an unicorn. Other difference was that her eyes were pitch black but Numiera could feel how these black eyes pierced her like arrows. Suddenly this Numiera wanished into the darkness and left Numiera on her small white spot alone...

Real world

Numiera was still unconscious but suddenly she vomited more of the strange black substance, as it hit the ground it hissed and smoke rose as the substance sunk into the ground of the prison, leaving a hole into it. Numiera quivered and let some strange noices...

Azazeal849
05-09-2013, 02:21 PM
DUN MORIGA, NIGHT TIME

Numiera was still unconscious, but suddenly she vomited more of the strange black substance. As it hit the ground it hissed, and smoke rose as the substance sunk into the ground of the prison, leaving a hole in it. Numiera quivered and let out some strange noises.

"Ah, hells." Altius cursed, and made to lift the girl down from his shoulder.

"What's up?" Salvius whispered sharply from the front of the column, where he was following their mysterious stranger with sword drawn and ready.

"Your girl's just thrown up down the back of my armour." Altius replied seriously as he laid Numiera down on the floor. In the dim torchlight, he missed the bubbling gobbet of black slime on the floor, and the soft hiss as it ate into the rock was masked by Numiera's quiet moans. "That blow to the head might have done her some real damage, centurion. We could be making it worse by moving her."

Salvius paused, letting Kuronus and Gabriel pass him. "Better that than leaving her for some pissed-off guards to find." he growled softly, and motioned for Altius to pick Numiera back up. "Kuronus, you cover the rear. I'll take vanguard."


* * * * * *

AFRAGIA, MORNING

Suriyana gazed wide-eyed out of the armoured glass window of the Earthborn transport, unable to tear her eyes away from the arid scenery that was blurring past below her. The seasonal rains mostly fell on the western slopes of the Dun Morigan mountains, leaving little for the thirsty scrubland on the other side. Still, there were patches of green where those Afragians who chose to live on the surface made their living, clinging to the edges of the vast Afragian desert. Though Suriyana had never seen her parents' homeland, she recognised now the alaar trees and the bleached stone buildings that they had described to her as a child. She couldn't get over how small they looked from up here. Even the rivers that the settlements clustered around were little more than blue threads winding down from the mountains. The dizzying vantage point combined with the speed provoked a mixture of fear and exhilaration in Suriyana, and she couldn't help the wild smile that remained fixed on her face as they flew. Travelling with the priestess of Ra in her metal chariot must be the closest thing to flying through the air with the god himself.

"So..." Ovidius said from his seat beside Suriyana, making her turn back round to face him. The Marcius family agent had torn his eyes away from the window and was focused instead on the strange device Ann had given them. It was like a slate tablet, only thinner and lighter, and with a front that glowed from within. The screen showed lines of text translated into Namorian, the letters formed from impossibly neat and regular strokes that would have put the finest scribes in the Imperium to shame. Ovidius followed the text with his finger, reading as he spoke. "The Egyptians haven't moved from their desert stronghold yet, but only because they're mired in some sort of leadership challenge, and there's three main players we need to worry about..."

They had been over this already. Suriyana realised that Ovidius must be just as scared of hurtling through the skies above Eternum as she was, and was talking in an attempt to cover his own nerves. Rather than point that out, Suriyana just grinned to herself and listened.

"Some guy called Shanaar is possibly the strongest candidate - an army general with some backing, and a patron of Isis apparently. His main challenger is the vizier and chief judge, Iset. And then there's the high priest Ahsha. We'd all rather see him win because he's the only one who doesn't want to invade Afragia, on account of them being fellow children of Ra."

"Us." Suriyana corrected him playfully. "Not them. You're an assassin-priest of Anubis now, remember?"

Ovidius smirked, acknowledging the point, and put a hand to the dog-headed amulet he now wore around his neck. That was his cover story. Suriyana had taught him the fundamentals of her home pantheon the previous night - broken up by a couple of rather pleasurable interludes. Luckily his inability to speak Afragian would not seem overly suspicious, since Anubis drew his judges and warrior-priests from all over Eternum, although they often worked with the Ra priesthood which was more traditionally entrenched in the east. Suriyana herself wore the diaphanous shift of a Ra priestess instead of her usual tunic, belted with a cotton cord. The slave tattoo on the inside of her wrist was hidden by the clasps and bangles of her office. For Suriyana, it felt extremely strange - to be back in her culture's own dress, speaking her parents' language and using her birth name instead of her Namorian slave name, but still be as tightly bound as ever to her mistress and the mission she had given her. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind as Ann's shuttle began to descend.

"Fuck me!" Ovidius murmured as he stepped down the ramp, stumbling slightly and clearly glad to be back on firm ground. Suriyana and Ann followed him out, and together the three shaded their eyes against the rising sun. The temperature of the air around them was quickly rising as morning escalated towards midday, and the soil underfoot was dry and dusty. A gentle breeze tugged the finer particles along the ground, to be scooped up and whirled into eddies by the lander's idling turbines.

"Remember to stay close." Suriyana said to Ovidius.

The spy smirked back. "I'm here as your bodyguard, right? In character or out, I'll be like your shadow."

Suriyana returned the grin. "Then darken heel and lets get to work."

The dark-skinned girl gathered the skirts of her dress and shot a questioning glance at Ann, who was the theoretical leader of their mission.


* * * * * *

COMBROGIAN BORDER, MORNING

Varinius rode at the head of the Namorian marching column, behind Cassius' cavalry screen and the more far-ranging scouts. A summer rain filtered down through the tree canopy overhead to bead and run down off the legionaries' oiled cloaks. The men marching behind Varinius were without their sarcina marching packs, having handed them over to troops further down the column - a luxury that would enable them to fight more effectively if they ran into any trouble. And Varinius, as always, did expect trouble. The rank smell of death from their previous campaign had cleared from the forest, but wolves had still howled at the legionaries as they crossed the Minerva and pitched camp for the night at the forest's northern edge. The Fulminata's so-called reinforcements from the 9th legion were particularly skittish, wary of the vikings who still no doubt still stalked Boar Skull's former domain after giving their garrison legion such a bloody nose.

The Namorians had taken what precautions they could to protect their vulnerable march column as it trudged along the forest road, leading an even longer train of red-crest Romans and spear-carrying Greeks. Crocolyke skirmishers were spread out to the sides of the road to search for trouble - naturally, backed up by the Fulminata's own flanking patrols. Legatus Marcius - Dux Marcius, Varinius corrected himself - was still reluctant to leave his security solely in the hands of allies who he was never going to fully trust. The intractable commander had said as much in his address to the Fulminata before they left Emor, albeit only by implication.

"The gods work in mysterious ways." Marcius had shouted from atop his horse, flanked by his tribunes and the legion standard bearers. "The immortals who were our enemies now fight with us against a bigger threat. Mars, Diana and Isis have made it clear that this is their will, and so we shall honour it! Remember that we are soldiers of Namor, and as we have proved time and again, we do not need to be able to cheat death to triumph. We are already immortal! You know why? Our enemies' stories are doomed to end. Their names will be ground into the dust and lost to history. But to our victorious dead, death is not an ending! The people of Emor will remember, our families will remember, and the Emperor will remember. The names of our fallen will be etched in stone for all time, because their sacrifice is for a cause so glorious that Mars himself will take heed! And the memories of the gods are as immortal as they are. Soldiers of the Imperium, you have already won, because YOU CAN NEVER DIE!"

The legion commander had waited for the answering roar to die down before he resumed speaking. He held up his left hand, keeping his still-bandaged right out of view.

"This is the time when we look to our true brothers for strength and reassurance. Take a look at the man next to you - the man who will defend you with his shield, and who will share in the victory with you. Honour and remember him, whether he lives or dies. Because one day, you will tell your children and your grandchildren that you served with men such as him! And together, you'll accomplish a victory that will be told and retold down through the ages, of how we drove back the invaders and established a new age of peace and solidarity for our Imperium. I'm proud to lead such men. Fulminata, forward!"

It hadn't been a bad speech, Varinius thought. Though he wasn't one for tact himself, he could appreciate when others were using it, and in that situation he felt that Marcius had used just enough. The legionaries had stopped muttering about knives in the back from the Romans and Greeks, at least openly, while the dwarven auxillaries remained grim - a state that Varinius expected would continue until the sullen bastards got a shot at whoever had invaded their homeland. Varinius wasn't sure if he preferred the prospect of a viking ambush in this accursed forest, or a gruelling fight through the warren-like caverns and tunnels that made up Dun Moriga.

We're fucked...as usual. the tribune reflected, and the thought brought a savage grin to his face as the allied armies marched on.

La Volpe
05-10-2013, 10:09 PM
"Kuronus, you cover the rear. I'll take vanguard." Salvius said to the ranger as he slipped by his friend. Kuronus nodded, not daring to open his mouth to speak. He could feel the change starting to try tearing his natural body frame apart, and turn him into the beast it so cherished. Falling behind the group, the ranger was able to let some of the building tension show on his face, safe from the questioning eyes of his companions. Sheathing his magic sword, Kuronus drew his massive bow from his back, happy to have a task to focus on instead of leading the party through the dwarven dungeon. Beneath his armor, Kuronus could feel his skin flex and contract, prepping its self for the painful transformation that was fast approaching. May we be in battle when I turn... So the beast may feast on the flesh of are foes, and not of my friends... he prayed silently, trying to ignore the growing sharpness of his senses, making his friends all to clear to him

Death of Korzan
05-11-2013, 05:31 PM
Combrogia

As the Snake of Namorians and their allied forces began to move through the forests, they were soon met with a large clearing between two swaths of forest, where in the centre lay a shocking display. The men at the front of the troop line; including Marcius could not turn their eyes away, for in the middle of the clearing lay the rotting body of a Dragon almost thrice the size of the one that Marcius had killed earlier in their campaign. The creature’s head sat sideways with its right, scaly ‘cheek’ slumped against the mud. The grass around it was scorched and some of it seemed to have turned colors of violet and orange; however it continued to grow.

Where the eye of the Dragon should have been, there was a large and crude spear that was harshly embedded in the eye socket and straight through the hard skull of the Dragon. On top of the spear was a spike end that held up the severed, rotting head of Governor Boar-Skull; the spear poked through the open mouth of the Druid.

The smell was horrific.

Various men heaved as the scent of rotten flesh and sulfur hit their nose; it was not a pleasant mixture. Horses whinnied in shock and terror and men were flipped off of the mounts that they had considered docile. However, there were a more troubling occurrence happening.

As the troops began to file into the clearing, Legate Septim raised his hand and stopped his Roman legions; as he listened close, he could hear shouting from a distance, war cries. Then suddenly, they were upon them.

The first group were huge; at least 20 men who were impossibly pale and had dark, blood red eyes; their flawless and beautiful skin matched none of the other group of men and they moved with extreme speed. The man at their head was huge, bigger than the majority of the troops that the Namorians had brought with them, he stood easily at 8 foot tall; in his hand he wielded a hammer and a huge spiked shield covered in flecks of flesh and an amber colored liquid with the consistency of blood. Around his neck was a intricately woven bracelet that threaded through 14 elongated ears, some more rotten than others. At close examination you could see two small puncture marks just below the left hand side of the necklace.

Blonde hair swathed over the mans back and he flew screaming like a banshee into the ranks of the Fulminata; his arm swinging impossibly fast and felling many men; behind him leapt dozens more of them and behind stood another blonde foe, who began to chant malevolently. Below the bodies of the broken and slain, blood began to defy gravity and float upwards, until it showered down in the form of a terrible corrosive rainshower; causing men to scream as their skin bubbled and their flesh melted.

Blood Magic.

Archers from both sides of the forest began to rain down on the Fulminata and their allies and then the true attacking party appeared whilst the ones who had ran out at the front lines still began to cleave their way through the Namorians. One of the huge Viking men leapt over 20 feet and landed on Zhegnra before receiving a fist through the heart; the creature fell, but others; who were missing limbs were not falling and were simply continuing the fight; men began to run and scream.

However, there was a moan in the forest as several trees began to…uproot themselves; the giant Oaks taking huge steps towards the Vikings and sweeping with their arms. Other swords men who looked almost human began to twirl out of the forest, decorative blades flying and cutting into Viking men; all the while the train of troops fought for their very lives; caught between the denizens of the forest and the invaders.

Azazeal849
05-13-2013, 05:26 PM
Though he was surrounded by his staff officers, Marcius felt somehow vulnerable as he urged his horse into the clearing to see the scouts' report for himself. To lose both Calvus and Silverwick at the battle of Hercinia had been a heavy blow, and even though Marcius still did not know which god to thank for Silverwick's aid, he couldn't read the loss of the divine wolf as anything other than a bad omen. Many stories had sprung up among the troops regarding the confrontation with Hercules, and Marcius counted himself lucky that the prevailing opinion among his troops seemed to be one of heroic sacrifice - that Calvus had died to save his commander, and Silverwick and the sword Hate had been reclaimed by the gods in return for victory. Anything else would probably have crushed their morale. Now instead of Calvus and the dire wolf, Marcius was accompanied by a new bodyguard named Varrius - a man of few words and constantly glowering eyes who had been combed from Cassius' cavalry force. With his oval shield, heavy spear and long spatha, Varrius looked every bit the competent fighter. Right now the only man Marcius would have felt safe around was his former centurion Salvius, but he had to trust that his chosen man was achieving in Tartarus what an army could not, and keep his doubts carefully hidden from his men. He rode forward, reining in his horse with his good hand.

Ahead of the commander three centuries of Namorian soldiers had gathered in the clearing, halting while a picket line of scouts swept the surrounding forest. Cassius and his cavalry vanguard continued to range ahead of the main force, but the need for a second perimeter was all too clear. Every man in the clearing was focused on the shocking display that lay right in front of them. In the middle of the clearing lay the rotting body of a dragon, almost thrice the size of the one that Marcius had killed earlier in their campaign. Marcius could see several men whispering amongst themselves and touching amulets and sword hilts as they wondered who could have brought down such a creature. But that wasn't all. Where the eye of the dragon should have been, there was a large and crude spear harshly embedded in the socket, and straight through the hard skull of the dragon. On top of the spear was a spike that held up the severed, rotting head of governor Boar Skull.

"Fucking barbarians!" Marcius heard Varinius curse in response to the death and desecration of one of the Imperium's closest allies. Marcius was glad that none of the Greeks were present - the degrading trophy was an uncomfortably close mirror of what Achilles had done to legatus Scipio of the 7th legion. Gods above, Marcius thought, but fighting alongside these immortals would be a test of their trust - in spite of his wife's reassurance and his words to the legion upon leaving Emor. He could only hope that his trust wasn't soiled upon its return.

His thoughts darkened by the gruesome trophy, it was with a frown that Marcius registered legate Septim also riding to the head of the column to assess the scene. An honour guard of red-cloaked Roman legionaries jogged at the double behind him. With them was the imposing, orange-skinned Zhegnra, who used his bulk to make his way through the ranks towards Marcius. The crocolyke leader inhaled deeply through his slit nostrils, and let out a sharp hiss at the reek coming from the slain dragon. Around him, the command staff's horses reacted to the same smell by whinnying and tossing their heads, their ears laid back flat against their skulls.

"Alpha." Marcius growled. He did the auxillary leader the courtesy of using his preferred title, even as he struggled to keep his distaste of the entire crocolyke species from filtering into his voice. "Have fifty more of your auxillaries join the scouts in sweeping the area. That dragon's been dead for days, but if the thing that killed it is still around I want to know."

Over to the left of the Namorian commanders, Legate Septim raised his hand and stopped his Roman legionaries; as he listened close, he could hear shouting from a distance, war cries.

First out of the trees was a cavalry scout, who galloped straight round the dragon carcass towards the assembled Namorians. "There's hundreds of them!" he shouted as he came. "Right behind us!"

He was followed by a stream of Namorian and crocolyke skirmishers, and then more horsemen who were trying to screen the former as they fell back into the clearing. Centurions roared orders, and nervous legionaries who were already hefting their javelins ran back into their square battle formations. The retreating scouts streamed around the formations like water around rocks, and Marcius was shouting for the column behind to move up at the double when one of the scouts defending the treeline was suddenly clawed from his saddle. And then, all at once, they were upon them. A score of individual warriors sprinted from the trees, tearing down the cavalry picket line in an eyeblink. They had pale skin and dark, blood red-eyes that flashed in the gloom beneath the trees as they ran forward with impossible speed. A few Namorians in the second ranks threw their pila, while the others dropped theirs and drew swords. One of the javelins speared into a charging attacker's face, poleaxing him off his feet. The rest of the pale men skipped and sidestepped through the missiles as they hammered into the ground. They streamed around the dragon carcass and crashed into the first Namorian century, which buckled backwards but held. Marcius thought the attack suicidal until he saw that the hacking, thrusting swords of the legionaries were failing to cut the pale men down, striking off limbs only for the vikings to completely ignore the wounds and maul their atrackers to the ground with the bloodied stumps. And then a viking with a spiked shield and a hammer joined the fight; a monstrously tall man who stood above even Combrogian height, and dwarfed the Namorian soldiers. He charged alone into the nearest century, sweeping two men aside with a shield-splintering arc of his hammer. Three legionaries immediately sidestepped to stab the lone warrior in the back, but then there was a flash like a lightning strike and all three were hurled back by a cyclone of air that suddenly appeared around the huge warrior.

Behind stood another blonde foe, who began to chant malevolently. Below the bodies of the broken and slain, blood began to defy gravity and float upwards, until it showered down in the form of a terrible corrosive rainshower; causing men to scream as their skin bubbled and their flesh melted.

Blood Magic.

"Mage!" one of Marcius' tribunes warned, and the commander turned to see the blonde woman working her sinister magic behind the rest of the pale men.

"Kill her!" he shouted in response, drawing his sword with his left hand and pointing towards the threat. His command staff urged their horses forward, kicking them into a gallop. They circled clear of the dragon carcass and charged through the gap between the embattled centuries. More of the lone, pale vikings were rushing out of the trees, but the horsemen simply crashed through them, hacking down with their sparthae as they ran the vikings over. But then the blood rain hit them with full force, and the unprotected horses began to shriek and wheel aside from the acidic downpour. Suddenly men were yelling and trying to control their steeds. An officer ahead of Marcius was pitched from his saddle and found himself face to face with one of the pale men - sword-hacked and ribs splintered from being run over by a Namorian horse, but still yelling a warcry in what sounded like mangled Combrogi as he pulled the Namorian down. Further back, Marcius himself was stalled by a red-eyed viking who tried to swing an axe at his horse's mouth. He jinked aside; the stallion reared and then plunged, crushing the viking's helmet with an iron-shod hoof. At the commander's side Varrius hauled back on his own horse's reins. It reared up, pawing the air. Varrius let out a mighty shout as he drew back his arm and hurled his spear, over the heads of his companions and straight at the viking mage.

Behind them, the blonde viking with the hammer and spiked shield let out a sudden roar of fear and anger.


* * * * * *

Two of the pale men broke away from the reeling Namorian vanguard, blurring between two of the three centuries before the men there could stop them and heading for the fourth unit that was running towards the battle with Varinius at its head. A centurion in the front rank roared a challenge and stepped forward to intercept them, splitting one of the onrushing vikings' skull in half as he tried to engage the man on his left. Even as he fell, the pale man's sword arm flailed out to crush the centurion's cheek guard and flay open the side of his face, and the centurion fell with him. The other pale man simply put his foot on a legionary's shield and leapt clean over the unit, landing amid a maniple of crocolykes who were rallying around Zhegnra. The crocolyke alpha was fast; the viking man landed on Zhegnra only to receive a fist through the heart, and unlike the other pale men, this one stayed down. Varinius saw it, and wheeled his horse around to take command of the fourth century.

"The hearts!" he roared, struggling to make himself heard over the shouts of other leaders and the crash of steel against shields. "Strike at their hearts!"

Suddenly arrows began to hiss and zip from the trees to either side, and Varinius realised that the scattered attack of the pale men had been only a distraction - having driven the Namorian scouts back, viking archers had worked their way around the flanks of the vanguard. Several men in the rightmost century were struck in their unprotected sides before the rest of the file could spin round and raise their shields. Men swore as flanged arrowheads thudded into their layered plywood scuta, trying to protect both themselves and their wounded comrades while the front rank still punched their swords and shields at the red-eyed pale men.

Septim and his honour guard took a more active approach; at a snapped command from the legate, the Romans pivoted left and began to unfold into a longer, four-deep line as they turned and marched straight towards the ambushers. Red-fronted shields raised high against the arrows, the Romans barked their long-lost city's name as a war chant as they stormed forward to counterattack. Varinius saw the loose line of viking archers cease fire and begin to recoil, pursued by a shower of javelins, and as much as he hated the red-crest bastards he approved.

"Alpha!" he shouted back to Zhengra and his knot of crocolykes, and pointed with his ceremonial sword towards the second line of bowmen harassing the Namorians' right flank, "Use the trees for cover and run those bastards down!"

Even as he said it, the real viking force appeared to the Namorians' front, heralded by another throaty warcry. While the pale men had charged as individuals, these men marched as a shield wall. Their formation was ragged as they advanced through the trees, but quickly tightened as they emerged into the clearing. Those Namorians who were still able hefted their pila and hurled them over the heads of their embattled first ranks, but the volley was ragged. Some vikings in the packed formation gasped and fell, vomiting blood, while others cursed as the heavy javelins splintered their wooden shields and stuck fast, dragging them down. The rest bellowed defiance and advanced, spears and axes raised.

"Come on, you Mars-damned sons of bitches!" Varinius spat at the legionaries around him, some of whom were still distracted by stabbing down at the still-twitching pale man who had wounded their centurion. The tribune slashed his sword towards the viking shield wall that was rapidly closing on the three embattled centuries, and on Marcius' bodyguards who were riding back through them. The dux was right in the thick of the action, ordering the middle century to deploy into an extended line to close the gaps between the formations either side. It would allow the beleagured Namorians to better meet the oncoming shield wall, but the unkillable pale men among their ranks were making any sort of co-ordination difficult.

"Move!" Varinius shouted. "Into the gap! Hit them in the flank!"

If he hooked the fourth century around the left side of the line, through the gap that Septim's men had just left, he could threaten the vikings' flank and relieve pressure on the vanguard. But time was running out. There had to be hundreds more of the vikings out there - the road leading off into the trees ahead was teeming with savage, mail-clad warriors rushing forward to thicken the advancing shield wall. Varinius wheeled his horse around again, and galloped back towards the next unit of Fulminata hurrying up the road.

Where the fuck is Cassius!? the tribune thought to himself savagely.

And then the denizens of the forest attacked.

The Bartender
05-20-2013, 12:15 PM
Dun Moriga

Numiera felt as if a dragon had overrun her and tried to get up only to lose all strength in her arms, falling back on the floor. She suddenly felt a strange, pulsating energy inside her head. It made her sight blurr and the voices of the others vanished inside the noice of her breathing. Then Numiera's sight turned red for a second and she looked around herself and noticed the shadow of Altius in the light of the torch. Then her instincts took over for only few seconds but it was enough; a sudden dash toward the shadow and took a bite of Altius's shadows arm. (Biting the shadow? WTF!?!)
But just one bite wasn't enough for Numiera, she tore her way throught the shadow until the shadow's arm was severed. First now she regained her sences, only to hear how the man was yelling in pain: the part of the arm which Numiera had attacked had turned black, just like the shadow which Numiera had consumed, and it grew, slowly it moved toward the hand of the soldier and caused extreme pain as the arm died;
"Shadow Infection", a power of demons and priests under the sign of Set could use to restore their energy by consuming the shadow of the enemy and thus destroying the body and turning it into a shadow. But this infection was unusual; it was growing. Normally it stayed where the user had bitten but this one seemed to be aggressiver than usually.
Numiera slowly got up, not even understanding what had happened or where they were nor why Altius was yelling. She touched her head only to feel how one of the horns had broken. Numiera remembered the other Numiera in her "dream", she had only 1 horn left...

---

Afragia

Ann was extremely refreshed to be sitting inside of the shuttle. She had missed the feeling of the flying. Before getting truly moving, they had taken Talos with them so the engineers would repair him. She had been afraid of the mecha to reject her due of the godly blood that now ran throught her veins but it seemed her father-in-law's engineers had recalibrated the machine to accept her new form...

After few hours of flying, Ann and her companions landed near the Afragian capitol. She had put on her ceremonial clothes she wore on earth, it was different from the clothes Ra's priestesses on Eternum wore, mostly it was more modern and colourfuller but the important symbols of Ra were well in sight as well as the ceremonial accessories of a high priestess like her dagger, prayer beads and pouch with incence. She also hadn't hidden her arms or eye, making it obvious that she could use godly powers, even thought with cost only.
Ann walked to her "subordinates", Suriyana and Odivius;
"We will first visit the capitol and gather some more intel as well as stay there overnight. Tomorrow we shall go and visit the highpriest Ahsha, our undead brother," Ann looked at Suriyana and then went forward. "If we have enough luck we can make a deal to eliminate his rivals in exchange for the freedom of Afragia, with enough luck." Ann looked into the sky, sun, or Ra was already over it's peak and it would take some time to get into the capitol without the shuttle but she didn't need too much furor in the city which her appearance could cause; a high priestess of Ra coming from the sky would look too much like a godly sign and Ann wasn't here to help the Afragians but herself and her faith.
"Let us get moving, we must get into the city before the sun sets." Ann said to her "apprantice" and the "protector" while walking toward the capitol while holding a large blue umbrella to cover herself from the sun. She had left her sword into the shuttle as priestesses weren't allowed to carry weapons openly and it was too large to hide, thus she had only the ceremonial dagger. Ann chuckled for excitement, excitement about the mission and the possibility of meeting her master in person...

Epostle
05-21-2013, 04:15 PM
Gabrielle

After being hit in the face by Salvius, Gabrielle chuckled a bit as the blow did next to no damage. The metal against clay sound echoed a bit through the dungeon, but to his surprise, it didn’t alert any guards. Gabrielle was at ease but at the same time, Gabrielle then stood up slowly, dusting off his wardrobe of any dust or wrinkles. He then said to Salvius, “You can’t be serious, of all things to do to me, you tried to hit me? I didn’t feel a thing.” Gabrielle said mocking Salvius, but before he paid any attention to Salvius, he noticed Numiera behaving oddly.

She was spewing up black stuff and attempting to eat a shadow. Gabrielle then said to himself “I knew she had a bit of a god in her, but of all gods to have, it was Sets.” Thinking of a way that would pivot her from the man, she instantly fell off the man and seemed to return to *normal* in a sense. Certain powers could provide certain dangers, but also could be tamed and learned if harnessed. Walking slowly, with the stone pallets under his feet making a minor clopping sound, he then approached Numiera while the other man was writing in pain.

He then knelt down to study her a bit. It was interesting at most to notice her eating a shadow in order to heal injuries. The only problem was that it was an instinct reaction rather than one she could control. He could have been wrong and she could control it just fine, but in this instance, she possibly might have hurt the man. “So, Numiera, is this a power you have had all along in your life, or do you even notice?” Gabrielle said monotonically, trying to figure out what was going on.

Azazeal849
05-30-2013, 08:10 PM
ECH ZILIDAR, NIGHT TIME

Salvius spun round as Altius let out a high-pitched scream. It was a sound he was only too familiar with; the shrill, agonised yelp torn from a throat by sudden and possibly lethal injury. In the dim light of the torches bracketed at too-long intervals along the walls, he saw the praetorian collapse, followed by Numiera a few steps behind him. Gabriel darted forward to the girl's side. Salvius ran to help Altius.

“Praetorian!” he snapped, dropping his shield and falling to one knee next to his fellow soldier. Altius had dropped his sword with a clatter of steel on stone as a black stain seeped out across his arm, tracing the path of his veins down under his leather bracer and into his hand. The man's face was a rictus mask of agony.

“What happened?” Salvius hissed, and then swore under his breath as he heard dwarvish shouts from further along the corridor – guards, heavily armoured and armed with spears for tunnel fighting, reacting to the commotion.


* * * * * *

COMBROGIA, AFTERNOON

Varrius' spear sliced into the mage's face, carrying enough momentum to split her skull and lever it open like an over-ripe fruit. The tall woman's pale hair turned red as the heavy impact backflipped her off her feet, and spear and viking crashed into the mud connected by a wide splash of blood and burst brain matter. Behind them, the blonde viking with the hammer and spiked shield let out a sudden roar of fear and anger. He turned towards Marcius and his bodyguard, but his path was suddenly blocked by something crashing down in front of him, shaking the ground. The something looked like a tree trunk, but even as Marcius watched it bent and folded at the midpoint, carrying forward a tall mass of wood festooned with moss and leaves. A second vine-wrapped trunk thudded down, the twin trunks splayed like legs to support the heavy mass above. Branches and twigs jutted from the back of the mass like a ridge of spines, and near the humped top the foliage spread into two thick upper limbs that bent and flailed with a life of their own. At the end of each were five thin branches, suggestive of fingers. One of the long, articulated limbs swept down and lifted the pale viking into the air.

The blonde-haired giant roared defiance, and couldn't draw breath to roar again as the tree-creature closed its fist, splintering his ribs. It raised the crushed warrior up to a leaf-crowned knot of wood that almost looked like a face, and tilted the lumpy head as if curious before opening its fingers and dropping the viking. He hit the ground in a boneless tangle, blood welling thickly from his mouth and nose.

There was a moan from the edge of the clearing as several more trees suddenly uprooted themselves, trunks splitting to form long, striding legs. The giant oaks took huge steps towards the vikings, smashing them aside like toys with leafy branches that curled and thickened into sweeping arms. Other swordsmen who looked almost human began to twirl out of the forest, decorative blades flying and cutting into viking men.

Marcius' horse reared in fright, and the legion commander fought to control it even as he looked on in open-mouthed shock. Perhaps a powerful druid like Boar Skull could have summoned such creatures as allies, but Boar Skull was dead, and no other Combrogian could match his power of communion with the forest. The Combrogi tribes had legends of forest gods and woodland spirits that arose to defend their threatened homeland, but none had been seen in living memory; and that was just as well, for the Combrogian tales often warned of the spirits being indiscriminate in their vengeance.

The Fulminata legionaries were edging backwards, eyes wide above their shield rims as the living trees and their smaller, darting accomplices crushed and destroyed the viking shield wall. Marcius snapped his crested helmet round, looking back down the forest road at the stalled column, and then back at his own vanguard that formed a wavering blue line between them and the forest creatures that were even now overrunning the last of the vikings. He didn't know if the newcomers were friend or foe, but if they were hostile and succeeded in rampaging down the thin march column then hundreds of his men could die in mere minutes. Ahead of Marcius the vanguard centurions shouted at their men to rotate ranks, ready for the next clash. The formations shifted as the front rank stepped aside and back, but the manoeuvre was ragged as the men behind hesitated to step forward, not wanting to get any closer to the towering tree men.

Very deliberately, Marcius swung himself out of the saddle, landing with a crash of armour next to the ethereal viking his horse had kicked. The pale man was impossibly still alive, trying to rise even though his head was just a caved-in shell of bone that slopped blood as he groped for his dropped sword. Remembering Varinius' shout, Marcius put his foot on the viking's neck and thrust his gladius up under the unliving warrior's chainmail haubergeon, the sword hissing as it scraped between ribs. The viking let out a strangled bubbling sound and went still as Marcius twisted his blade free, blood welling around his hand. Then, on foot, he strode purposefully between two of the centuries to the front of the battle line, in full view of his men. Sword held forward in his left hand, he stopped between the centurion of the first formation and the front-rank soldiers of the century on his right. Varrius was instantly down from his own horse and at his commander's side, and several of the other staff officers were spurring forward as they saw what Marcius was doing, but Marcius himself ignored them.

“Hold!” the dux roared at the top of his voice, holding out his gladius to indicate a front line for his men to step up to.

The example worked. The legionaries stopped edging backwards, some resolute and others grudgingly, but they held their ground.

“Hold!” Marcius shouted again, bracing his feet as the line straightened and spare pila were passed to the front, the Namorians reforming their line behind the stinking dragon carcass. The grizzled centurion on Marcius' left looked at him, waiting for the next order, but the commander just stared intently across the clearing at the rampaging tree men, his heavy eyebrows furrowed beneath the rim of his helmet.

Friend or foe, they were about to find out.

La Volpe
06-13-2013, 06:44 PM
Kuronus looked at his companions, though he was only half there. Deep inside the ranger, a inner battle was underway... Inside the mind of the large ranger, it was as if he was at war with a massive snow white wolf. The two aspects of Kuronus clashed time and time again, though after each passing, the human aspect was slowly weakening, all the while, the wolf seemed to grow larger and larger. On the outside, beneath the wolf cloak Kuronus wore, his skin began to ripple and contract, making the muscular frame of his seem even greater. His mouth filled with the taste of blood, though it would shock most, Kuronus knew all to well what it meant. He could feel his canines begin to grow, becoming razor sharp, his finger nails began to grow and become claw like, causing him to clench his hands to hide the sudden change.

"Grab him and move farther down the tunnel the other way, I'll handle this and meet back up with you soon." He said, almost sounding like a growl. He slid his enchanted sword from the sheath on his hip, running his had across the flat of the blade, keenly listening to the sound of the coming dwarven guard. He could smell the sweat on them already, even though they were still a decent distance away. The sound of there thudding foot falls told him how well they were armored, but this worried Kuronus little. His skin was armor in its own regard, not to mention his custom crafted armor that covered him. Laying his sword against the tunnel wall, Kuronus stabbed five arrows into the ground, and slid his bow from his back, testing the strings draw, making sure the string was still good. "Hurry up and leave." He growled again, a more primal tone in his voice now, leaving little room for argument.

Azazeal849
06-25-2013, 07:10 AM
(OOC - Gold text is mine, white text is Bartender's)

ECH ZILIDAR, NIGHT TIME

"Hurry up and leave." he growled again, a more primal tone in his voice now, leaving little room for argument.

Salvius turned his blocky face back towards Kuronus, torn between his sworn mission and his duty to an old friend. After a moment, he gave the ranger a brief nod.

"If we find the way out, we'll wait as long as we can."

The centurion turned away and picked up his shield, spitting out a string of curses under his breath as he did so. With half a million orcs surrounding the city, he had no idea how long 'as long as they could' might be.

"Let's fucking move!" he roared at the others, sheathing his gladius and using the free hand to hoist Altius up by his good arm. He pulled it round his neck to hold the man upright, and jerked his head at Gabriel to pick up Numiera. He was damned if he was going to diminish his friend's gesture by letting any of the others die now, even the bastard Earthborn.

"You'd better tell me there's another way out." Salvius said to their guide as they began falling back the way they had come.

Numiera was still dazed due to the exhaustion, the hit on her head and the overflowing energy that was rushing inside her after stealing a part of Altius' shadow, but as she shakily got up she looked at Gabrielle.

"What...are...you...really?" she whispered to him as she finally got on her feet and followed Salvius.


* * * * * *

THE AFRAGIAN DESERT, MORNING

Since the group left the dominion of Afragia toward the desert fortresses the Egyptians had overtaken, Ann had been in thought. She knew that this mission would turn out dangerous and it made her worry about Suriyana, who as a slave had probably never had any training in combat or even held a weapon. Odivius wouldn't be enough to protect her all the time either, as there would be many places where he couldn't enter; a follower of dark Anubis was not always welcome in the temples of Ra.

By the time they arrived at the first oasis however Ann had thought about a plan that would probably work out, and thus she walked over to Suriyana, who was kneeling at the lip of the oasis multitasking between washing her face and filling their water skins.

"Suriyana, this will get more dangerous from now on and I need you to stay alive." Ann sighed, "And to do that you must learn how to survive amongst very zealotic people like the Egyptians. I will hereby offer you the chance to become a real priestess of Ra, free you from your life as a slave and make you my apprantice." Ann smiled while she thought of her father-in-law, who would probably kill her for this way of working if she wasn't in line to be the high priestess.

Suriyana wiped water out of her eyes and sat back on her heels to give Ann a strange look. She evidently thought that the priestess was joking at her expense.

"You're funny." she said tartly, and started tying her hair into its usual plait.

Beside her, Ovidius was taking advantage of the water source to clean his teeth with a mixture of salt and crushed mint. He paused to spit it out as Suriyana spoke. "I don't think she's joking." he offered.

Suriyana looked from Ann to Ovidius, and back to Ann again. "And spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder when domina thinks I've run away?" She went back to plaiting her hair. "No thanks."

"It wouldn't be running away if she paid for you." Ovidius pointed out, and swirled water around his mouth before spitting into the sand.

"I've told you before, Aulus." Suriyana sighed, "I don't want to be bought."

She secured her hair in place and stood up, facing Ann.

"Look," she said, "Thanks. Really. But you're the only Earthborn dominus trusts, and I'm not going to ruin that by letting you steal me." She hesitated, and brought one hand up to her chest to fiddle with the sun icon that was hanging around her neck. "But...I would like to learn more about the ways of Ra."

Ann was suprised by the loyalty that Suriyana showed toward her owners - then again, she had grown up with them - but she had decided not to give up yet. She would make her change her mind.

"I understand your feelings and I respect them," Ann lied, "I will teach you as much as it is possible without you making the oaths of a priestess. I must say it won't be much, but it will help you to understand. It is also to be said that I won't teach you the usual Afragian teachings but the teachings from Earth; the ways of the ancient Egyptians and the other old civilisations."

"That might impress them." Ovidius admitted as he began packing away his things. "Provided we admit up front that you're an Earthborn. They might start asking about the differences, otherwise."

"How...different are they?" Suriyana asked. She sounded slightly wary, as if she didn't like the implication that her own parents' teachings were somehow wrong.

Ann didn't answer directly, only walked into the shallow water after taking off her sandals.

"I can teach you a few spells as well, but don't dare to tell anyone about it because it's not allowed to teach anything to a faithless person." she said, and walked out of the water. "Ovidius, could you leave us alone?" she then said to the spy.

Ovidius raised his eyebrows at Suriyana, who raised hers back. "Alright." he said, and stood up. "I'll see to the rest of our kit and keep watch. Let me know when you're ready to move."

Suriyana watched the spy go, then kicked off her own sandles to wade into the water beside Ann.

"I'm not faithless." she said, although her curiosity kept any anger subdued.

Ann chuckled at how Suriyana reacted to her "taunt". After Ovidius had left, Ann turned to her new "apprentice" and started the first lesson.
She snipped her left index finger with the thumb and a bright flash of light filled the oasis, the reflective water making it even brighter. As Suriyana regained her sight, she saw that there were now two dozens copies of Ann standing around her.

"These are the most simple abilities and also the first ones when someone takes the path of Ra: Daybreak and Fata Morgana. They are easy and quick to utilise, and they also grow stronger as you grow stronger yourself. New pupils usually manage to create only one copy of themselves, while someone like me can create this many." All the Anns talked at the same time, creating a harmonised chorus that was very strange for Suriyana. With a swing of her arm the original Ann made the copies vanish. "Now it's your turn to try. The trick is to imagine your fingers as a match and the matchbox; if you can make the movement fast enough the match will catch fire." Ann explained it as simply as she could. "And for the Mirage, you use your right hand with the same principle. But the most important thing you need to do is to think: you must think and imagine the light being released, or that there will be a copy of yourself. Magic isn't much more than pure power of will."

"But..." Suriyana said hesitantly, "The mages from the Guild back in Namor always said that magic was in the blood - you either had it or you didn't?"

Ann just smiled and took a few steps back from Suriyana. "Now, try first to get your fingers to glow. It should be a good start for a person without any experience in magic."

Suriyana took a deep breath, shifting her feet slightly. The silt beneath the shallow water parted and then closed again around her toes. Feeling rather self-conscious, she raised her left arm and tried to picture fire glowing at the tips of her fingers, as Ann had instructed. The sun was warm on her dark skin, and so she tried to imagine that heat flowing down into her hand and coalescing. Concentrating so hard on her fingers, she could almost feel them tingling with phantom pressure. Was that the magic? Taking a deep breath, she snapped her fingers.

Nothing happened.

Flushing slightly, Suriyana swallowed and closed her eyes, shutting out the oasis and Ann's critical face watching her silently from off to her left. This time she tried to picture the position of her arm against the black, her focus narrowing in on her hand and imagining the glow of light bursting from her fingertips. When she had it pictured so clearly that it was almost branded into her closed eyelids, she snapped her fingers again, as fast as she could. Again, nothing happened. She opened her eyes to check, but her hand looked the same as it always had.

Suriyana bit her lip, flexed her fingers, and tried again - three more times. Each time it produced nothing more than the brief click of her finger snapping against her thumb.

Ann smiled as Suriyana tried to use the spark without any progress. It wasn't unusual, as she hadn't been living around magic; when*Ann had visited the mages of the Namorian Guild a few months ago,*she had noticed that the apprentices there had to do simple work and study for few years before their actual magical training started, in order to adjust their bodies and minds*to the magical energies that surrounded them. For Suriyana there wasn't time for that, so Ann decided to make it possible for the girl to use magic without long training.

For that Ann began to unwrap the bandages around her arm. She then*pulled out one feather, brought it to her mouth and blew on it softly- it suddenly began to shine, and in a small flash it turned into a small bird-like creature (http://hdwallpapercollection.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/bird-full-colours-fantasy-wallpaper.jpg) that then flew to Suriyana and sat on her shoulder. It was the same iridescent blue as Ann's own feathers, with a bright yellow breast and scarlet primaries along the outsides of its delicate wings. Rather than a beak it had a long, thin snout almost like a proboscis, and an even longer tail that ended in another fan of scarlet feathers. It looked more like a seahorse or a tiny feathered dragon than a true avian. The creature peeped and rubbed its face on Suriyana's neck.

"Now, try it again." Ann said, and began to rewrap her arm bandages.

"What...?" Suriyana began, but broke off when Ann raised an eyebrow. She looked down at the creature on her shoulder, which looked back at her with a beady red eye. She took a breath, and focused on her hand again. At first the creature's tiny claws shifting against her bare shoulder were distracting, but after a few seconds she was able to concentrate and picture a flow of energy moving down into her fingertips.

Her fingertips lit up bright gold, and it was such a shock that Suriyana almost jumped, breaking her concentration and snuffing out the light as soon as it had appeared. Her heart beating faster now, she glanced again at the creature on her shoulder. It was staring fixedly at her raised hand. Swallowing, Suriyana focused again, and gradually the pale light reappeared around her nails, spreading and sliding like a liquid across her dark skin to envelop her whole hand. Suriyana couldn't help laughing. She turned her hand slowly, worrying that the movement would break the spell and snuff out the light; but it stayed strong, visible even in the light of the hot desert sun.

She looked up, the glow slowly fading as she moved her concentration from the spell back to Ann. She opened her mouth, but couldn't decide which question to ask first.

As Suriyana looked at Ann but couldn't say anything, Ann explained;

"He is a familiar, a spirit or esper, whatever you want to call him - a magical being created to increase your magical capabilities. His name is Qia'bul, and he is a small half-phoenix from the lands of Ra. He works as a catalyst, draining the magical energy from the air around you and then giving it to you in exchange for some of your stamina - so don't overdo using magic or it could cause you to fall unconscious. He will also work as my eyes and ears while he is with you, making it easier to help you if you need it."

Ann walked over to Suriyana and scratched the small spirit's back; it responded by turning in circles and then laying down on Suriyana's shoulder like a cat. She then turned back to Suriyana.

"Please don't tell anyone about what you saw," She then looked at her bandages. "There is nothing to worry about, but just keep quiet about it...okay?"

Suriyana nodded. She had seen Ann's feathers at the meeting the previous night and knew what a powerful sign it was of the gods' favour, but she also understood that now they were going among enemies it would be wise for Ann to appear weaker than she really was.

Ann smiled and walked out of the water. "Don't forget to train your magic - if you do well you won't need Qia'bul's help in a few months." Ann waved her hand. "Lets get going, the Egyptian camp is not far away." she shouted as she put on her sandals.

Death of Korzan
06-27-2013, 11:57 AM
Combrogia

From within the rampaging tree-men galloped a tall pale man with piercing white hair; his face was beautiful in a masculine way, with neon green eyes and two sets of pointing ears which ended in star like shapes which jutted out from the main ear. He rode towards the wall on his steed, a beautiful golden horse…with two horns jutting out of the side of its head. A gorgeous thick main of hair that looks as if it should not be on such a steed came from the top of its head and ran down its forehead and its neck; it truly was a sight to see. He galloped towards the wall of the Fulminata and its allies before stopping ahead of Decius Marcius.

“You travel with powerful friends Marcius.” The Elf-like man said. “What is your business travelling through those War-torn forests. The Dragon-Slayer resides here; the Bane of Ulznorzaluz; these are not safe lands to be travelling.” Turning his head to left, the Eldrani man spies Achilles surrounded by 3 bloodsuckers, weapons in hand. They fly at the Greek man with extreme speed before being quickly and easily dispatched by Achilles.

He wiped his blade on the long hair of one of his opponents before spying the gaze of the Eldrani. “I shall lead you through to Dun Moriga, my troops and kind shall remain here and will follow through the foliage, you are lucky that Attaxia’s blessing has only darkened a small group of the Dragon-Slayers troops.” The Eldrani wipes his hands on his knees, removing blood from his palms. “I am Lord Kurosavi; Prince of the Eldrani and Thane to Elders; we should move quickly. Ready your mean; Beowulf will not wait for us.”

Dun Moriga

As the party left Kuronus behind, Salvius’s friend was met by around 6 Dwarven guards wielding axes and flintlock rifles. “Get on the ground ya’ wee welp.” One of the guard who was clad in a heavy set of decorative yet useful armor. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into…

-

“Come on, hurry!” The man who had broke the party out of their cells called as he began to sprint ahead of them, every few moments pulling out a small blade and launching it forward, which then would strangely pierce into a Dwarven sentry men who none of the others had seen; or heard for that matter. It was as if the man was seeing everything happen before it could.

The group trailed behind through winding passages, up stair ways and down them again; through rooms that looked inhabited and through caves where the only sound was the occasional boom of a cannon, followed by the barbaric screeching of dying Orcs. Eventually however the group came to a huge tunnel that led diagonally upwards; as wind flew from the top it brought the smell of sand and the feeling of pure heat. “The passage to Afragia. Come on.” The Figure shouted as he began to sprint up the path.

Odin's Grotto

Isabella was brought down the stairway by the Druada trio. As they walked through Odin’s Grotto and array of scents and sights bombarded her senses; things she had never smelled or seen before. Various trees with large tree-houses adorned the pathways, some throne-rooms crafted from bound oak trees joined them. Eldrani children watched as the armor covered Isabella walked past. Soon enough she came to a large dome shaped building, the only stone building in all of the Grotto. As Isabella comes to the door, her guides turn to her. “Be polite and courteous, for the elders reside inside; they have been waiting for you.” And so the doors opened…

Azazeal849
07-01-2013, 04:05 PM
BENEATH ECH ZILIDAR, NIGHT TIME

"The passage to Afragia. Come on!" the figure shouted as he began to sprint up the path.

"Wait." Salvius said abruptly. "I told Kuronus we'd wait for him as long as we could and that's what we're going to bloody well do."

Twisting awkwardly around Altius, who he was still carrying, he glanced back down the slope of the dark passageway. He knew it would be a tall order for his friend to follow them through the maze of tunnels they had used on their way out, but Kuronus was no ordinary tracker, and he'd have the trail of dwarven bodies to follow if nothing else. But how easy would it be for more dwarves to follow the same trail? Salvius swore under his breath. Until that evening, he had rather liked dwarves.

The centurion looped Altius' arm off his shoulders and lowered the other soldier to the floor. They had made most of their flight through the tunnels at a stumbling run, but for the last few minutes Altius had been simply dragging in his grip. The black colouration that had covered the praetorian's right arm was now creeping up the side of his neck in striated lines. His eyes were closed, and Salvius could barely hear him breathing.

"No-one gave you permission to die, praetorian." he growled as he pulled a water skin from his belt and offered it to Altius. "Stay with me." He had stolen the water skin from one of the dead guards that their new guide had left in his wake. They had their weapons, which had been conveniently dumped outside their cell before the guards could move them on, but all their other supplies had been on their horses, which they had left with their dwarven escorts before Gabriel had decided to insult the Dun Morigan king. And Salvius had absolutely no idea where princess Nesara was.

Their situation was bad: unprovisioned on the edge of the Afragian desert, with two of their number missing and a third incapacitated by some black magic. Salvius turned to look the other way up the tunnel, up the slope from which a current of air carried the smell of sand and a warmth that hinted that dawn was already approaching. Gabriel, Numiera and the guide had paused ahead of him.

"Did any of you see what happened?" he asked them, gesturing towards the nearly comatose Altius.


* * * * * *

COMBROGIA, LATE MORNING

"You travel with powerful friends, Marcius." the elf-like man said. "What is your business travelling through these war-torn forests?"

Marcius regarded the ethereal man for a second before responding. Several of the men either side of him clutched amulets or touched iron sword hilts at the sight of the horseman; Varrius alone seemed unintimidated and shifted his weight onto his front foot, threateningly, but Marcius reigned in his bodyguard with a raising of his bandaged right hand.

"We march for Dun Moriga." he said at last, lowering his damaged arm. "There is a greater enemy at work here, and one which threatens us all."

The elf-like man calmed his horse as it snorted and pawed at the ground. "The Dragon Slayer resides here, the bane of Ulznorzaluz; these are not safe lands to be travelling."

"Ulznorzaluz?" Marcius repeated, looking back at the rotting dragon carcass that lay behind the elfin horseman. "That was Ulznorzaluz?"

Ulznorzaluz was one of the 12 demon lords, feared and reviled as the personification of unchecked greed. He was said to take the form of a huge dragon, and the lesser drakes that occasionally plagued the Imperium were thought to be bound to his will. Marcius was not sure what he found more disconcerting: that one of the demon lords had been abroad in Combrogia, or that he had been banished back to hell by a mortal who was apparently no friend of theirs.

"I shall lead you through to Dun Moriga." said the horseman. "My troops and kind shall remain here and will follow through the foliage. You are lucky that Attaxia's blessing has only darkened a small group of the Dragon Slayer's troops."

"Who in the twelve hells is Attaxia?" spoke up tribune Varinius, who had pushed his way through the waiting Namorian legionaries towards the commander. "And for that matter, who are you?"

The Eldrani wiped his hands on his knees, removing blood from his palms. "I am Lord Kurosavi, prince of the Eldrani and Thane to Elders. We should move quickly. Ready your men; Beowulf will not wait for us."

At that moment there was a thunder of hooves as a squadron of blue-cloaked cavalrymen swept into the clearing, pulling up short as they saw the legion and the Eldrani lined up watching each other with wary expressions. At the detachment's head was Cassius, his horse's flanks flecked with blood and foam. The tribune's arm was no longer in a sling, though he still held it stiffly and carried his cavalry sword in his left hand. It too was streaked with red.

"And where the bloody hell have you been, boy?" Varinius called up as Cassius cleaned his sword and dismounted.

"I turned the vanguard around when I heard the fighting." the younger tribune answered. "But the Southerners had formed a shield wall to block us. We had to fight our way through."

"These aren't Southerners." Marcius said, surprising himself with the thought that he wished the invaders of Combrogia had just been some of Korzan's rebel bastards who had somehow made it this far north. "More immortals by the look of it, and one of them killed that." He jerked his head towards the dead dragon.

"What about the bodies then?" Varinius pointed out, giving one of the dead vikings a contemptuous nudge with his foot. "They'll be coming back before long."

"My men will deal with them." lord Kurosavi said levelly.

"Make sure they give governor Boar Skull a proper burial too." said Marcius, nodding towards the dragon carcass again. The Combrogian chief's head was still mounted on the spear that had impaled its eye socket. "He was a valued ally to the Imperium."

"We should move quickly." Kurosavi said. "Ready your men. Beowulf will not wait for us."

Marcius suppressed the stab of anger at being ordered about by the eldritch newcomer. The Combrogian forest spirits, by the grace of Mars or possibly one of the other gods, were their friends for now.

He nodded to his tribunes to pass the word on. "Inform our allies."

The dux gestured to a legionary to bring his horse forward. Varrius followed him like a shadow, mounting his own horse as the commander pulled himself into the saddle one handed and kicked his horse forward to match step with lord Kurosavi.

"Tell me more about this Beowulf." he said to the Eldrani, as orders were shouted down the line. The bloodied Namorian soldiers around him stood down and snapped a quarter turn to the left, ready to move out. "And about Attaxia."

Death of Korzan
07-27-2013, 06:38 PM
Ech Zilidar

Numerous shouts emerged from the tunnels as the bodies of the guards were no doubt found. Seen enough the clattering of feet was heard once more and it became louder and louder; closer and closer, until. Around the corner of the well carved tunnel ran 12 heavily armored Dwarven men holding long spears, battle-axes and hammers. Leading them was their King.

The armored Dwarf-King stopped running and scanned his eyes over Kuronus, who stood in front of the remaining tunnel; breathing heavily. After a few seconds the King opened his mouth, his accented tongue flicking boasting words: "Step aside Ranger and I will make sure you are not punished for this. Stay and fight, and you die. And all the others will be punished with treason. I think we both know the right thing to do..."

Combrogia

"I can answer all of your questions for you." Kurosavi spoke; his voice serenading the weaker minded into listening to him without choice, hypnotizing them in a mystical, unintentional way.

"The answer to your first question; that is not Ulznorzaluz. Ulznorzaluz is big enough to block out the Sun. He is the Sea-Quencher, the Planet-Feaster and the Harbinger of Greed. That was an ancient Dragon...but that was not Ulznorzaluz." Kurosavi took a small leaf from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. "It is Gold-Mint. We grow it in bundles, would you like one?" He offers the small slick leaf to Marcius.

"Anyway, your second question; recently we felt...energy. It was unlike anything that we had felt in our cycles, and we have awfully long cycles...-" Kurosavi cleared his throat before continuing. "We sent a few of our best to...investigate what was causing these problems. We think we found them. For some odd reason, two new Gods have been spawned. We know not of their domains, only that they are called Attaxia and Lupinus. Attaxia performs some sort of 'transfusion' of bodily fluids and gives those who complete it with her the gift of enhanced strength, speed, durability and immortality, although it comes with a price. They must suck the blood of the living and other food or drink products cause them to choke and feel immense pain. We do not know about Lupinus."

At the mention of Beowulf; Kurosavi's eyes shot up. "Beowulf...A long time ago on the land of Earth lived Beowulf. He was a King, a Man and a slayer of beasts so terrifying that any other mortal who would set their eyes on them would apparently be blinded or turned to stone. He travelled across the frozen areas of the world and slew the denizens of the Demon Lords until one day Ulznorzaluz decided to attack his Kingdom. After a fierce fight, Beowulf brought down the Lord of Greed, but gave up his own life in return...now he is back, and he wants Combrogia."

Kurosavi wiped his brow, spat out the Gold-Mint mush that he had created with his teeth before shoving in another one of the small leaves. "He was the one who slew Boarskull, and he commands these armies..."

Epostle
07-31-2013, 05:07 AM
Gabrielle followed the others on their way up towards a desert type lands. Not knowing much of the locations of this world, he could gather from all the talking that Afragia is where it leads. Deserts weren’t much of Gabrielle’s desired landmarks, but then again, if it could get him closer to the stones and Destruction, he would go anywhere that was needed. The only problem would mainly be Salvius’s giant mouth running about every little incident and insubordination. Gabrielle then heard him yelling and said quietly “Right on que!”

"I told Kuronus we'd wait for him as long as we could and that's what we're going to bloody well do." Savlius had stated.

In response Gabrielle then sighed and said “Look, Salvius… it seems to me that you don’t know much about honor so I’m going to let you in on a little secret. The fact that Kuronus is staying there is for our advancement and for his blood lust. So I’m going to make this really clear so that even your thick skull can understand it… let him fight, and let’s go.” Gabrielle was rather stern in his words, but to him, too much honor was at stake for Kuronus at this point. When a warrior gets that look in his eye and desire in his heart, it is wise to stay out of his way, or so Gabrielle thought.

"Did any of you see what happened?" Salvius asked them, gesturing towards the nearly comatose Altius.

“Well if you ask me, Salvius, it seems as though Altius just got caught by something. I didn’t see anything except him making a heroic effort to save the girl while you just bitched around.” Gabrielle said trying to piss Salvius off while trying to save Numiera’s life. “If I were you, I would continue leading our party so that we could make great haste, unless you’re becoming too scared that Kuronus isn’t capable of handling himself… to me that’s disrespectful. Also, you’re on a mission… so let’s be a good soldier boy and get to it… unless your little heart can’t handle sacrifices.”

Gabrielle still wanted to know about the girl. That was no ordinary magic attack, let alone anything he had seen in a long time. Black blood, black magic... he was beginning to suspect that possibly her tribe of elven kind may have stumbled upon something they shouldn't have... or maybe... it was intended that the magic reacted in such a way. Anything is possible while in a hysterical state, but the problem was that he felt something completely different that wasn't Numiera. There was only one way to find out, but he would first need to get her away from the party at some point. Gabrielle was going to see what power that was... no matter what.

Gabrielle began to look towards Numiera. He knew that it wouldn't be long that another one of the party members would be in that state as well if they didn't thread carefully with her. Same with Salvius, although it is fun to piss him off, but then again, Gabrielle wanted to keep his true identity from them. The only one's that would even know of Gabrielle would be the Earth-born, and even then, they would have to dwell back into history and some arcane forces to understand who he was.

La Volpe
08-02-2013, 06:13 PM
Ech Zilidar

Kuronus looked at the force he was now tasked to hold. At first he was met by around 6 Dwarven guards wielding axes and flintlock rifles. One of the guard who was clad in a heavy set of decorative yet useful armor was the first to speak “Get on the ground ya’ wee welp.” . The ranger laughed, a deep a low savage sounding thing, shaking his head. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into… But it seemed fate had even more in store for him as suddenly numerous shouts emerged from the tunnels as the bodies of the guards were found. Seen enough the clattering of feet was heard once more and it became louder and louder; closer and closer, until. Around the corner of the well carved tunnel ran 12 heavily armored Dwarven men holding long spears, battle-axes and hammers. Leading them was their King.

The armored Dwarf-King stopped running and scanned his eyes over Kuronus, who stood in front of the remaining tunnel; breathing heavily. After a few seconds the King opened his mouth, his accented tongue flicking boasting words: "Step aside Ranger and I will make sure you are not punished for this. Stay and fight, and you die. And all the others will be punished with treason. I think we both know the right thing to do..." Without a word, Kuronus pulled back his large hood, a grim smile spread wide across his face, his now fully elongated canines shining fiercely in the low light of the tunnel. Within the Ranger, something strange had happened, man and wolf had stopped fighting one another and looked out through his eyes, and in seeing a common enemy, decided to work together.

"I'll give you this one chance brave King, turn back now and save the lives of these brave men. For as long as I bar your path, none of you shall cross me with your lives." His voice echoed down the tunnel, deep and primal. With a signal fluid movement, Kuronus plucked one of the five arrows from the ground, knocked it and drew back his large bow. He did not take aim though, keeping his bow table top as his keen eyes watched the dwarven force in front of him. Estimating the distance, he could get one, maybe two shots off he figured, before he'd have to swap for his beloved sword. "Choose wisely Noble King, are we really worth the trouble? When there is a horde breaking down your gates as we speak?" He added, locking eyes with the King, a deep fire burning behind his eyes.

The Bartender
08-04-2013, 09:16 PM
Numiera coughed as she opened her eyes and rolled on her stomache. She coughed again and spitted out some of the black goo as she got on her knees. She rashly looked around herself to get an idea where she was, but alos looking after her new (stolen) bow.
She then felt that someone was watching her and turned her head and looked Gabrielle directly in to the eyes. In the dom light her red eyes were shining and the black pupils were even thinner than usually due of the lack of light. She nailed Gabrielle's eyes into her own, just staring into them, saying nothing at all.
But suddenly she had another blackout, only for a second but during this time, pupils widened completely, turning the eyes all black and revealing another pupil inside it, it was blood red as if someone had turned her eyes insideout... Then they returned back and Numiera chocked more black goo that started to eat tself throught the floor...
Numiera stabilized herself by leaning against the wall and then walking toward her equipment that was laying next to their quide.

Azazeal849
08-04-2013, 10:46 PM
EDGE OF THE AFRAGIAN DESERT, DAWN

“Also, you're on a mission...so let's be a good soldier boy and get to it. Unless your little heart can't handle sacrifices.”

Gabriel got precisely the reaction he wanted – Salvius' teeth clenched and his right hand dropped to the hilt of his gladius. He stopped a hair's breadth from drawing it when a cold hand reached up to grasp the hem of his indigo cloak. The centurion looked down, and saw that Altius had come to enough to be able to raise his good hand.

“He's right about one thing, centurion.” the stony-faced praetorian said, clearly struggling to raise his voice above a mere whisper. “You're on a mission. Take the others, go on ahead. If Kuronus comes I'll tell him where you went; if it's the dwarves I'll try and delay them.”

Salvius shook his head. “You can't even stand.” he pointed out.

Altius swallowed wetly. “I'm a soldier of the emperor's praetorian guard, and his will was that I help you get to the gates of Tartarus and retrieve the Alcamor Stones. Right now I'm only slowing you down, so I'll do what I still can to further your mission. We're talking about the future of the whole Imperium now.”

“Don't you think I-” Salvius began, before reining in his anger. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and nodded. “I'll make sure the emperor remembers your name, praetorian Altius.” he said at length.

Altius nodded. “Imperator Populusque Emorus.”

“Imperator Populusque Emorus.” Salvius echoed, touching his right fist to his left shoulder with a chink of his scale lorica. Taking a last look down the passage and muttering a prayer to Mars that Kuronus would find his way back to them, he turned on his heel to stride up the stone corridor towards the dawnlight. They had to cover as much ground as possible before the desert sun became too intense.

“And now the last mystery.” he said with a humourless grunt as he drew level with their self-appointed guide. “Who are you?”


* * * * * *

Ovidius crested the dune and shaded his eyes against the sun. His eyes adjusted to the glare and revealed a town to their east. It was a decent size, large enough to warrant a stone wall instead of the usual wooden palisade that ringed most Afragian settlements. The buildings behind the wall were Afragian in design, square-roofed and sun-bleached, but a single incongruous structure dominated the town skyline and immediately drew the eye. It was a pyramid, half finished, its smooth sides still exposed in places to reveal its internal structure. Where the outer wall had been completed it was finished in some sort of pale stone which gleamed in the rising sun. Although the peak of the pyramid remained unbuilt, the slope of its sides suggested that the finished structure would be of an impressive height.

It was nothing like Ovidius had ever seen, and he openly gaped for a moment as he wondered how it was being built. His answer came when he saw large blocks of stone rising into the air, orbiting the pyramid like meteors around a reflective star before settling neatly into place at its unfinished peak. In a wide circle around the pyramid stood men with upraised arms, jets of light arcing from their fingers as they raised the huge blocks of stone into position. Mages; but not men of Afragia. Even at this distance Ovidius could tell from their strange robes and the lighter colour of their skin – more bronze than the dark brown and ebony of the native desert dwellers.

“I think we've found them.” he said to Suriyana as she pushed up onto the dune ridge with Ann close behind her.

The three made their way down towards the wooden city gates. As they got closer the lesser buildings disappeared behind the high wall, but the mighty pyramid remained visible above it even as they were called to a halt by a pair of guards flanking the door. They wore linen kilts and carried long spears, their faces sharp and noble with high cheekbones. They challenged the three in a language Ovidius didn't understand.

“Do you speak the common tongue?” he answered in Namorian.

“Fortunately for you, yes.” said one of the guards. To Ovidius' surprise, it was almost uncoloured by his previous accent.

“And well.” Ovidius replied with a nod.

“Millennia in the underworld gives you time to perfect such things.” the guard said, and narrowed his dark eyes. His gaze flicked from Ann to Ovidius to Suriyana, taking in the pale earthborn, the more swarthy Namorian, and finally the dark skinned Afragian. “Now, what is your business here?”

“We are priests of the old gods, looking to aid their old disciples.” Ann spoke up in an authoritative voice. “We seek an audience with your leaders.”

Death of Korzan
08-05-2013, 04:53 PM
Dun Moriga

"I'll give you this one chance brave King, turn back now and save the lives of these brave men. For as long as I bar your path, none of you shall cross me with your lives." His voice echoed down the tunnel, deep and primal. With a single fluid movement, Kuronus plucked one of the five arrows from the ground, knocked it and drew back his large bow. He did not take aim though, keeping his bow table top as his keen eyes watched the dwarven force in front of him.

The King paused in deep thought before grunting with anger and taking a deep intake of oxygen. "You and your party dishonoured me, lied of a quest that a valuable member of the imperium had no knowledge of, and then insult me in my own home when I disbelief you. You then escape my prisons and put the safety of my citizens at risk. No, I gave you a chance, now I'll look forward to melting down those swords of yours and pouring them on the vermin outside of these impenetrable walls."

The dwarven king stepped forward with his foot and swung with a huge amount of speed; before Kuronus could react, his bow was in splinters, laid out on the floor, ruined and broken. As Kuronus looked up from his trashed bow, he saw another hammer strike coming towards him, his hands now donning claws and seemingly rippling under the skin reached out and grabbed the hammer, stopping it still with a clammy smack.

The dwarf king paused, his eyes opening wide as the sight in front of him unfurled. Kuronus's grip tightened, causing the hammer to crack in various places. The ranger began to scream, a beastial roar crackling through his lips. Underneath his lips his gums were visibly growing in size, growing outward to form a maw that would look more at home on a large dog.

The rangers eyes seemed to shallow as his cheekbones shot out. His teeth lengthened and even his molars become sharp and dagger-shaped. Kuronus screamed again as the sound of bones cracking began to echo through the hall, his legs changing from their normal human state to something that would be seen on a wolfs hind legs.

The rangers hair began to flow down his back as his clothes ripped to reveal an insanely muscular figure. As the black fur spread down the back of Kuronus, his skin began to darken to a slightly lighter shade to his hair, and soon enough his whole body was covered in fur and discoloured skin.

His hand flexed again, and the Kings age old hammer burst into pieces of rock. The dwarf flinched backwards onto his back as the changed ranger took a step towards the dwarf king, baring its teeth before leaping towards the king.

The first noises heard were screams; then came the gunshots; then more screams. Then there was the sickly sound of gargling, meat being chewed and bones being split.

Then came the tide of silence.

And so, even after the slaughter, even after the wolfman had continued through the tunnels to find more prey; there was still one dwarf at the slaughter left alive. One dwarf who had watched his beloved king be devoured by a creature of unrivalled viciousness.

It was this day that all those in the questing party were charged for high treason against the Imperium.

The punishment for treason was absolute.

The punishment for treason was death.

Odin's Grotto

As the large doors opened, Isabella walked into the building. it was different from the other, natural houses of the forest dwellers, it was made of massive stone, a dark, moist and cold.

"It can't be made by them, this looks like a building of the humans or dwarfs I have seen in the photos of the cities..." Isabella thought while walking deeper into the ancient building as the corridor began to fell into the depths of the earth...

As she reached another door there was a rather large person standing before it, a human. Standing right before him, Isabella was almost two heads smaller as the man who wore an armor Isabella couldn't identify, it was not one of the humans in Namoria, nor one of its allies, the forest dwellers nor that made by dwarfs. It was made of dark metal which was almost black and it emitted a strange aura which seemed to suck in the light of the torches. On the back of them man Isabella could see a huge claymore which could propably cut her half with one swing.

"Lay down your weapons before entering." The man said with a stern tone which made Isabella shudder. She did as told and laid down the array of guns as well as the dagger of her but the man repeated: "Lay down all your weapons, nothing what could hurt the elders." With the same stern tone. Isabella was a bit upset but she began to strip her armor. After few minutes, she was standing before the man, wearing only her underwear.

"May I pass now?" She asked and the man walked out of her way and opened the door into a huge hall...

The hall was long and beautiful, covered in roots that had long and razor sharp jewels embellished into their tough bark; the gems glittered as rays of brilliant sunlight shimmered across their bodies, dazzling Isabella with bright colorful beams. Butterflies and large, long winged Praetor beetles flew within the knots of root; the beetles buzzing. The floor was almost completely transparent and in some areas crackled as Isabella placed her bare feet down atop its surface; it shifted from being flat to having odd lumps on it's amber surface. It took a few seconds for Isabella to realize that the floor was formed out of a huge amount of sap dripping down to the ground.

The hall held it's own form of beauty; nicer than any Emperor's palace or King's court.

It was natural.

As Isabella stepped out of the Hall, she was met with a huge globe formed of root, each covered in veins of either emerald, sapphire or Purple diamond. Three thrones forged of the same individual stones sat before her, towering above her. Seated on each stone was an extremely large tree; with humble and ancient faces to match. An Elm, an Ash and an Oak.

"Come forward young one; let our old eyes look at your soul." The Ancient at the center of the domed podium said. His voice rumbled deeply but seemed to have an effect on the nature around him, causing flowers to blossom and trees to grow greener.

Isabella walked toward the thrones of the old trees, watching around herself, astonished about the beauty of the underground cave. She was quiet and listened the noises around herself as she walked along the wobbly sap that covered the ground. As she reached the thrones, she bowed and the asked;
"Why did you wish to meet you elders? I am not from this forest, nor even from this planet, so why me?" She decided to go fast into the topic.

The Elders made one simultaneous sigh before releasing their magical words. "Because we are losing the forests." A large creaking sound was heard as one of the giant tree-druids leant forward, his Bark manouvering itself around his large frame. "The forces of the Eternal ones are too great. Now that they have Blood-Drinkers to fight with them, our forces have little to fight them off with. And when the Dragon-Slayer killed our greatest Prodigy...Boarskull was wept for."

Isabella was quiet overwhelmed about the situation, she was just a soldier, not a hero. She didn't know what she should say and being amost naked didn't make it any easier (it was a bit cold in the hall). She took deep breath before talking again; "But what can I, a simple soldier do about this problem of yours? I don't even have any authoritiy to be here in first place." She tried to talk herself out of the situation which made her feel very uncomfortable.

"You can learn how to command nature, to strum the strings of the wilds and to call those that call it home to your aid. You can be our next prodigy. Should you accept our honest judgment and gift..."

This request/offer was if someone had smacked isabella's face with a quiet a large fish. But it also made her hands shake lightly (and not only due to the failing clothes). This would open undefinied options for her, not only in the military, but mostly for her as a person, she would be worth something in the eyes of others. She would be on same level as Ann who had always received all focus as she was older than her. Isabella had always envied Ann for the affection she received, but not anymore...

"I accept your offer elders. How will it go forward from now on?" Isabella talked, looking the old trees with a new flame in her eyes, eyes full of determination and passion, as well as fury and anger...

"You will train, you will fight, and they will die. You shall fell them like corn under a farmers scythe." The trees spoke in unison. Behind Isabella, an Elvish looking man walked towards the earth born girl and placed a green fluffy coat around her neck.

The next thing Isabella remembered was waking up in a huge treehouse, being awoken by a...large humanoid bee.

"Get up, it is time for you to begin!" He exclaimed, before rushing downstairs as Isabella followed, running from her bed and into the gruelling regime she would have to follow...

Combrogia-Dun Moriga Crossing

As the sun quickly fell beneath the thick canopy of trees, Kurosavi pulled to a stop as up ahead the thick trees began to lessen in numbers, and the feet of the mountain launched upwards from the ground, signalling the beginning of the mountain ranges of Dun Moriga and the end of the besieged forest lands of Combrogia.

"This is as far as I may take you, for the forest needs my commanding spirit, else all the ancient woods will burn under Beowulf's iron reign." His tongue flicked the words ever so elegantly, it was as of the most perfect music had streamed out of his mouth, and when he spoke it was simply a bottomless pit of verbal heaven.

"I will warn you though, Dun Moriga is riddled with such great evil. Creatures of darkness have sprung from the pits below where the dwarves would dig, where e never thought anything could survive. And they are bloodthirsty...be careful Decius of the Marcius clan; when you die I shall plant an entling on your grave, so that you may live again and join us in the grotto of Odin. May your troops be blessed, and may the lady of fortune bid you good tidings."

With his long and enigmatic speech finished, Kurosavi spoke something in his natural tongue and without any other words, he sped off back to the forests, leaving the Fulminata alone to cross the borders into another wartorn land...

The Afragian Desert

“And now the last mystery.” he said with a humourless grunt as he drew level with their self-appointed guide. “Who are you?”

The guide turned around, a smile on his face. In his left hand sat a beautifully crafted scythe, whilst in his right was a chain with a claw like blade at the end. Before he could open his mouth, multiple clicking sounds resonated from nearby. All the members of the party turned around to see men clad in red jackets with large bear pelt hats on top of their heads peaking over various dunes that surrounded the party. It was an old fashion ambush. Over their jackets were many buttons, medallions and golden embroidery.

"Drop your weapons!" They yelled. "Or we will shoot!"

Out of the frying pan, into the fire.


----------

The guard pursed his lips very briefly before opening up the gates to the town. "I shall escort you. If you try anything, I will kill you we're you stand."

As the door opened, the smell of spices and honey hit the noses of the unlikely trio, although the sight in front of them was a lot more perplexing. Ahead of them stood a vast market, filled with people selling goods...but the were not just people. Among their ranks walked the children of Anubis; half man, half jackal. They held two blades in each of their hands, they rose up like Normal swords, yet as they reached the end of the bladen they curved, creating an oddly shaped sword. Each Anubite stood at 6'5, with teeth as sharp as swords, and claws that could cut through steel as if it were butter.

They were truly deadly.

Mesmerised by the image, they were suddenly jolted by one of the beasts looking at them and making a foul noise.

"Come. There is more of New Giza to see, you can't stay in the market forever priests." The guard smiled as he turned a corner, expecting the group to follow him.

Emor

Night had fallen long ago over the city that sat at the heart of the Imperim. It was earlier in the day when the Namorian fleet had set sail on the long, arduous journey to the South. They were led by praetor Maximus. The fleet was huge, one of the biggest ever sent by the Imperium in an attempt to conquer the free south. Yet it was such a controversial decision to make.

The rest of the Imperium was mostly besieged. The efforts of the Fulminata had saved Hercine and the efforts of the Marcius family, husband and wife, had saved Emor from a Roman invasion; they had not only defeated both the Greeks and the Romans, but they had forged alliances with both.

It was late in the evening and as evening toiled on Lycinia Caelesta Marxi walked down the path towards her family villa, the building was dredged in the darkness of night time. Behind Lycinia trotted her son Marcus, Diana and their house slave Hercinia carrying the youngest of the family Aurelia.

As the proud woman, now revered as the one who saved Emor walked to her door, she was hit with a sudden metallic smell. Her nose wrinkled, yet her hands continued on to push open the door.

"Careful, my lady." The house-slave spoke before Aurelia burst into tears. Lycinia nodded and pushed open the door, which grated against the tiled flooring.

The living room was bare, whilst it was dark due to the lack of candle-light, it felt as if it was darker than normal, as if the God of Mercy was trying t hide a terrible sight from the family. Another door that led into the dining room was lft slightly ajar, with a splash of blue moonlight seeping through the gap. Lycinia approached it and again she slowly pushed it.

As the door was opened, the smell of death washed over all of those outside of the door. Pinned to the stone wall via a large and well sharpened axe that sat straight through his skull, was the House-Slave Attaxius.

All was silent for a second, until the three children in unison began to sob in fear. And then there was a louder sound, the sound of the front door slamming, and the lock being smashed closed. Lycinia panicked as she turned to see a huge bearded man with pale blemished skin, bright blue eyes and long blonde hair swing an axe towards Hercinia's leg, cutting it clean in half.

Southerners.

Hercinia screamed and fell to the floor, Aurelia flopping out of her arms. The axe fell once more, and silenced another voice. Lycinia felt her hair being pulled as her head was jerked back. She shrieked in pain and pure rage as a dagger was placed at her neck, it was cold and whilst it was not freezing, it made her shiver.

In front of her stood Marcus as he scrambled for one of the many fire pokers that sat in a woven basket. Before he could turn with it n his hands an arrow shot from behind Lycinia, with surprising luck it shot straight through the boys throat. His raised his hands and clutched as his throat as his panicked eyes turned to his mother before blood spilled from his throat. He collapsed soon after, dead.

It was after this that Lycinia began to sob wildly. Diana crawled towards her, screaming the word "Mummy!" over and over again. The blonde southerner walked forwards, pressing a heavy steel boot onto the girls spine before applying pressure and breaking it. Intending to finish the job, the man brought his axe down and through the girls upper back.

"This is how losing something precious feels. We lost our King thanks to your scum. Now you have lost your children. And now you will lose your life." The Southern accent slipped into Lycinias ear. The last thing she ever heard was those foreboding words, then the knife slipped across her throat.

Standing on the roof of a building close by stood a robed woman, her face was practically impossible to see due to the position she was standing in, however it was certain she was looking at the burning home of the Marcius family. The work of Korzans Avengers attracting citizens even from the Roma district.

Such terrible luck, Decius...it is my job to balance things out...I think the scales are even now...


Part 1 Complete