Sosa sneered et the whites as they announced their withdrawal.
"Oh yes, soldier, I am sure you have done an excellent job, and you will do even better running to safety with the rest of the refugees.
Now, if you will excuse us, the grow-ups have a demon to kill"
And without sparing him another glance she turned to the others.
Her clam lasted only for a few heartbeats though, as Valserts well meant words unleashed her careful hidden pain and anger:
"Oh, of course sergeant" She spat at him "That is what I do all the time, isn't it? I am very good at letting others fight my battles, I let them die all the time, while I stay safe. Look at captain Ulder, look at the Guards which went down with him. look at the Caesar, lying in his tomb.
What do you take me for? I am a warrior, and from now on, I will act like one. And be sure: I have no intention of dying tonight, but if Illuminatus calls for me, I will go where he takes me! And the people of the Citadel will just have to do without me! And the Guards can find another profession, or another leader!
And now we have talked enough, there is a demon on the loose. could somebody please lead us to it, or will we stand and wait until it finds us?"
She turned on her heels and looked at the rest of their little party.
Where the World Ends (Samheen 24th, GT, closed)
Moderator: Mods
-
Corbin Dillon
- Noble Apprentice
- Posts: 623
- Joined: Fri Sep 17, 2004 2:46 pm
Apparently there was some dispute between Valsert and the commander, but Corbin was not close enough to catch the reasons for it. When the female adhiel turned to look at him, he nodded his head slightly to show that he was ready and turned to look at Professor Moore and Acantha to see if they too were ready to venture forth to face the demon. One hand still lay on his sword, the other holding the powerful Rosestone.
Professor Moore nodded to his apprentice. "There is nothing to be gained by waiting. Corbin, it is best you do not lead. The Rosestone must be our center. Still you are our guide. To the war room and beneath I presume?"
Acantha gripped her halberd. "Remember all, our objective is the Nether Rift and its closing. Even the demon is secondary to that. With the Rift closed, all of the evils remaining will wither and weaken and can be picked off at our leisure." Acantha looked over the Commander and her second. "Since I don't think I could stop you two, feel free to take point. I shall protect the rear." With that, Acantha strode to the back of the group and followed them in
Acantha gripped her halberd. "Remember all, our objective is the Nether Rift and its closing. Even the demon is secondary to that. With the Rift closed, all of the evils remaining will wither and weaken and can be picked off at our leisure." Acantha looked over the Commander and her second. "Since I don't think I could stop you two, feel free to take point. I shall protect the rear." With that, Acantha strode to the back of the group and followed them in
[size=100]
Donald heard a mermaid sing, Susy spied an elf,
But all the magic I have known, I've had to make myself.
Shel Silverstein[/size]
Donald heard a mermaid sing, Susy spied an elf,
But all the magic I have known, I've had to make myself.
Shel Silverstein[/size]
-
Corbin Dillon
- Noble Apprentice
- Posts: 623
- Joined: Fri Sep 17, 2004 2:46 pm
Corbin nodded to Professor Moore.
"Yes, wherever the rift is, it is most certainly underneath The Citadel. The sooner we descend the sooner we shall be able to shut the rift." He glanced at Acantha. "And when we have shut the rift we can see to the business of exterminating whatever darkness has crept out of it." He said.
Corbin moved forward so that he was standing in the centre of the party. He gripped the Rosestone tighter in his left hand, his right hand hanging at his side, but ready to pull the sword from its sheath at the first sign of danger. These were the only preparations he needed, and he followed the Guardsmen back into the Citadel.
"Yes, wherever the rift is, it is most certainly underneath The Citadel. The sooner we descend the sooner we shall be able to shut the rift." He glanced at Acantha. "And when we have shut the rift we can see to the business of exterminating whatever darkness has crept out of it." He said.
Corbin moved forward so that he was standing in the centre of the party. He gripped the Rosestone tighter in his left hand, his right hand hanging at his side, but ready to pull the sword from its sheath at the first sign of danger. These were the only preparations he needed, and he followed the Guardsmen back into the Citadel.
-
valsert
- Sergeant of the Purple Guard
- Posts: 362
- Joined: Wed Feb 12, 2003 5:34 am
- Location: arkansas
- Contact:
“Yes Ma’am†were the only words Valsert said in response to Sosa’s angry reply, and those two words were simple, cold, and structured as only a solder could supply.
The dressing down he had received from the commander had changed very little in his mind. Only instead of knowing that she would remain safe on her own, he now knew it was his duty to keep her safe on his own. It would be difficult to arrange….
Oh Yes Ma’am, if push comes to shove, it WILL be only I that takes the greatest threats. She is a courageous warrior to be sure, yet she is the only person that can bind the bulk of the Guard to remain, to endure….to stand and face what we must become. Even if this were not the last night of the official Purple Guard, it would still be my duty to keep the officers safe
Those two words were all she would get in response. Turning on his heel, Val moved towards the War room, not only to take his place at the head of their party but also to keep the commander’s always knowing gaze from reading his eyes.
The dressing down he had received from the commander had changed very little in his mind. Only instead of knowing that she would remain safe on her own, he now knew it was his duty to keep her safe on his own. It would be difficult to arrange….
Oh Yes Ma’am, if push comes to shove, it WILL be only I that takes the greatest threats. She is a courageous warrior to be sure, yet she is the only person that can bind the bulk of the Guard to remain, to endure….to stand and face what we must become. Even if this were not the last night of the official Purple Guard, it would still be my duty to keep the officers safe
Those two words were all she would get in response. Turning on his heel, Val moved towards the War room, not only to take his place at the head of their party but also to keep the commander’s always knowing gaze from reading his eyes.
Sosa nodded to the mages and Valsert, not questioning his words as she was used to being obeyed.
She waited for Corbin to point out the way before taking the lead and entering the dark insides of the Citadel.
Before going down into the dungeons, she cast a last look on the so familiar Citadel and whispered
"Illuminatus, help me too keep this place safe, not only as the Palace for the new Caesar, but also as the symbol of Light and unity of the Empire. Help us and bless us, for we will be battling the Darkness tonight"
She waited for Corbin to point out the way before taking the lead and entering the dark insides of the Citadel.
Before going down into the dungeons, she cast a last look on the so familiar Citadel and whispered
"Illuminatus, help me too keep this place safe, not only as the Palace for the new Caesar, but also as the symbol of Light and unity of the Empire. Help us and bless us, for we will be battling the Darkness tonight"
[size=75]avatar by allavatars.com[/size]
For a thousand yahren, it stood.
It hadn't been built for it's noble purpose today, but such specifics were, like all facts of that age, lost in the sands of time. Constructed under the hands of a race that no longer walked the face of Tazlure...at least in any recognizable way...the Citadel was an enigma that so few truly came to understand fully, one of the keys to understanding the legendary history of the Races of Man as they walked the face of the world today. An isle beholden to no one, a rock of Justice and Hope, it had been...both an island and a fortress, one that would hold and protect the hopes of so many races throughout more than one age. No one on the island understood the full and true history of the Citadel fortress or noticed that it's roots were shared with the ancient cities of the Western Kingdoms as well.
Visitors to the Citadel fortress might notice it in passing. A vague shape, a familiar shadow, perhaps a familiar joint or cut of stone...shapes familiar to those that frequented the most ancient of places in Tazlure, places such as King's Court, the ruins of Terra Incognita, or very special places in the Great Desert. But it was here, a structure built as much from stone as by the history that placed them, a shape that stretched back a thousand yahren at least to just before the passing of Charlesmagne and possibly even before this. Eternal, unbroken, unmoved.
A thousand yahren can bring so very many changes in history. The Citadel had stood amid civil wars, demon wars, the rise and fall of nations...but always the Citadel stood, a fortress of such cunning and such construction that not even time could erode it's effectiveness. But while time, man, nations and demons could not topple it's walls or compromise it's strength, the enemy it faced today had already penetrated into the heart of the Palace, taking it's place within the very bowels of the Citadel...and within the very core of the Empire itself. The Heart of the Empire was blackened and infected, and no amount of stone, tradition, or history could stop the spreading evil that threatened to topple walls that had never fallen to an enemy yet.
Preston Summers was, like so very many of his colleagues, genuinely unconcerned and uncaring about the Citadel, the Purple Guard, Corbin, Professors Moore and Acantha, or anything else. Preston Summers was generally concerned about only one thing in life...and that was largely Preston Summers, a failure that had grown very common in the Citadel of today. A city full of those that moved and acted in only their own best interest, the Citadel's weakness and failure was as much a product of the rampant corruption gripping the island as any nefarious plot hatched by some Great Demon of old, and Sergeant Preston Summers easily represented everything that gave it to be so. Cocky and aloof, he merely bowed and stepped aside, allowing the collected party to move forward and enter the Citadel, certain that at least half of them would perish within...serves them right for their own vanity, he thought, dwelling upon them for a brief moment before he stepped away and thought on them no more.
And so they were left to enter, Corbin, Sosa, Valsert, two professors from the University of Magic and six privates from the Purple Guard. The courtyard was already dead to magic due to the clinging affects of the Rosestone...it's strangely inappropriate mass seeming to weight upon Corbin overmuch, as if it were made entirely of lead...and not even the Gods could reach them now, a horrifying, almost chilling truth that became instantly noticeable to Sosa when she came near the Stone.
For those that did not hold the Stone, the affect was almost mildly thrilling, for the world became more real to them...more powerful, more colorful, more sharp...for within ten paces of the Rosestone, there was only the real world, and there were only those eleven souls within it. Even as they walked through the Antechamber and into the War Council and moved towards the Heart of Tribus, the thudding hearts and gasping breaths of eleven bodies became crisply obvious. Within the Citadel, there was no breeze, no sound, no light. It was as if the old fortress had held it's breath and entered some long, deep slumber, absent from the world and waiting for those heroes to do what must be done to save the island from it's dark, twisted fate.
The Heart of Tribus stood near the very center of the Citadel, a roughly triangular room that Corbin remembered when he exited the Catacombs only marks ago. A small, contoured map of the island could be seen carved in marble here and built into a table at the center of the room, and below the table was a trapdoor that represented the Caesar's last escape route should his enemies breach the Citadel walls. Few knew of the path beyond the trapdoor, but it was said that the Caesars of old would know of which turns to take to carry them safely past the catacombs and beyond to the hidden cove where they might flee the island. Of course, their escape route would be dotted with traps, wrong turns, and devices designed to slow down and confuse any pursuers...one of which was the catacombs themselves, a rather simple maze beneath even the Citadel's dungeons that would make swift pursuit of any escaping ruler quite difficult indeed.
But the Heart of Tribus was not as Corbin remembered it. This time, it was covered in blood. The trapdoor behind which Bregana had valiantly sealed to give him his escape from the demon below had been stove upward, a strike that must have taken great strength to accomplish, and while the little room was smeared in sticky, clotting blood all over it's floor and much of it's walls, there were no signs of any bodies to be seen. The only noise in the room beyond eleven hearts beating and eleven pairs of lungs breathing was the single, open trapdoor, it's gaping, smashed opening moaning as the air from beneath sucked in or blew out, the warming or cooling trends of the rocky island giving the Citadel one very weak and soft voice.
Mooooooooooaaaaan.....
It hadn't been built for it's noble purpose today, but such specifics were, like all facts of that age, lost in the sands of time. Constructed under the hands of a race that no longer walked the face of Tazlure...at least in any recognizable way...the Citadel was an enigma that so few truly came to understand fully, one of the keys to understanding the legendary history of the Races of Man as they walked the face of the world today. An isle beholden to no one, a rock of Justice and Hope, it had been...both an island and a fortress, one that would hold and protect the hopes of so many races throughout more than one age. No one on the island understood the full and true history of the Citadel fortress or noticed that it's roots were shared with the ancient cities of the Western Kingdoms as well.
Visitors to the Citadel fortress might notice it in passing. A vague shape, a familiar shadow, perhaps a familiar joint or cut of stone...shapes familiar to those that frequented the most ancient of places in Tazlure, places such as King's Court, the ruins of Terra Incognita, or very special places in the Great Desert. But it was here, a structure built as much from stone as by the history that placed them, a shape that stretched back a thousand yahren at least to just before the passing of Charlesmagne and possibly even before this. Eternal, unbroken, unmoved.
A thousand yahren can bring so very many changes in history. The Citadel had stood amid civil wars, demon wars, the rise and fall of nations...but always the Citadel stood, a fortress of such cunning and such construction that not even time could erode it's effectiveness. But while time, man, nations and demons could not topple it's walls or compromise it's strength, the enemy it faced today had already penetrated into the heart of the Palace, taking it's place within the very bowels of the Citadel...and within the very core of the Empire itself. The Heart of the Empire was blackened and infected, and no amount of stone, tradition, or history could stop the spreading evil that threatened to topple walls that had never fallen to an enemy yet.
Preston Summers was, like so very many of his colleagues, genuinely unconcerned and uncaring about the Citadel, the Purple Guard, Corbin, Professors Moore and Acantha, or anything else. Preston Summers was generally concerned about only one thing in life...and that was largely Preston Summers, a failure that had grown very common in the Citadel of today. A city full of those that moved and acted in only their own best interest, the Citadel's weakness and failure was as much a product of the rampant corruption gripping the island as any nefarious plot hatched by some Great Demon of old, and Sergeant Preston Summers easily represented everything that gave it to be so. Cocky and aloof, he merely bowed and stepped aside, allowing the collected party to move forward and enter the Citadel, certain that at least half of them would perish within...serves them right for their own vanity, he thought, dwelling upon them for a brief moment before he stepped away and thought on them no more.
And so they were left to enter, Corbin, Sosa, Valsert, two professors from the University of Magic and six privates from the Purple Guard. The courtyard was already dead to magic due to the clinging affects of the Rosestone...it's strangely inappropriate mass seeming to weight upon Corbin overmuch, as if it were made entirely of lead...and not even the Gods could reach them now, a horrifying, almost chilling truth that became instantly noticeable to Sosa when she came near the Stone.
For those that did not hold the Stone, the affect was almost mildly thrilling, for the world became more real to them...more powerful, more colorful, more sharp...for within ten paces of the Rosestone, there was only the real world, and there were only those eleven souls within it. Even as they walked through the Antechamber and into the War Council and moved towards the Heart of Tribus, the thudding hearts and gasping breaths of eleven bodies became crisply obvious. Within the Citadel, there was no breeze, no sound, no light. It was as if the old fortress had held it's breath and entered some long, deep slumber, absent from the world and waiting for those heroes to do what must be done to save the island from it's dark, twisted fate.
The Heart of Tribus stood near the very center of the Citadel, a roughly triangular room that Corbin remembered when he exited the Catacombs only marks ago. A small, contoured map of the island could be seen carved in marble here and built into a table at the center of the room, and below the table was a trapdoor that represented the Caesar's last escape route should his enemies breach the Citadel walls. Few knew of the path beyond the trapdoor, but it was said that the Caesars of old would know of which turns to take to carry them safely past the catacombs and beyond to the hidden cove where they might flee the island. Of course, their escape route would be dotted with traps, wrong turns, and devices designed to slow down and confuse any pursuers...one of which was the catacombs themselves, a rather simple maze beneath even the Citadel's dungeons that would make swift pursuit of any escaping ruler quite difficult indeed.
But the Heart of Tribus was not as Corbin remembered it. This time, it was covered in blood. The trapdoor behind which Bregana had valiantly sealed to give him his escape from the demon below had been stove upward, a strike that must have taken great strength to accomplish, and while the little room was smeared in sticky, clotting blood all over it's floor and much of it's walls, there were no signs of any bodies to be seen. The only noise in the room beyond eleven hearts beating and eleven pairs of lungs breathing was the single, open trapdoor, it's gaping, smashed opening moaning as the air from beneath sucked in or blew out, the warming or cooling trends of the rocky island giving the Citadel one very weak and soft voice.
Mooooooooooaaaaan.....
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
Corbin Dillon
- Noble Apprentice
- Posts: 623
- Joined: Fri Sep 17, 2004 2:46 pm
There was silence as the group walked through the abandoned corridors of the Citadel. Where there had once been bustle, there was none. The silence seemed to increase the weight of the stone, and Corbin wondered briefly how much he had aged since he'd had the stone. He quickly pushed such thoughts away - the threat they were facing this night meant that it was quite possible that such a consideration would be academic.
They walked with a pace that gave away the fact that they were walking towards a deadly enemy. There was a nervous tension that clung to the air, and this combined with the aura from the Stone to create a unique atmosphere. There was determination mixed in with it all - everyone of them knew what they were risking, and that death could come swiftly, but they also knew that what they were doing was essential.
As they entered the Heart of Tribus, where Corbin had emerged from his nightmare with the demon not to many marks ago, the scene was very different. Last time he had been here it was the sign of salvation, now it was like a charnel house. Blood was everywhere, and Corbin remembered the detachment of guardsmen who had met him here. He muttered a silent prayer under his breath for the loss of those people.
"This was where I escaped from the catacombs." He announced to the party, then gestured at the trapdoor. "And that is where I came out. The demon came from there, and that is where the portal is." Corbin got on his hands and knees and moved under the table to gaze down and see if he could see the bottom of the ladder. As he looked he felt his heart beating faster, and adrenaline pumping - he was looking to see if the broken corpse of a brave Elven maid was lying at the foot of the ladder.
They walked with a pace that gave away the fact that they were walking towards a deadly enemy. There was a nervous tension that clung to the air, and this combined with the aura from the Stone to create a unique atmosphere. There was determination mixed in with it all - everyone of them knew what they were risking, and that death could come swiftly, but they also knew that what they were doing was essential.
As they entered the Heart of Tribus, where Corbin had emerged from his nightmare with the demon not to many marks ago, the scene was very different. Last time he had been here it was the sign of salvation, now it was like a charnel house. Blood was everywhere, and Corbin remembered the detachment of guardsmen who had met him here. He muttered a silent prayer under his breath for the loss of those people.
"This was where I escaped from the catacombs." He announced to the party, then gestured at the trapdoor. "And that is where I came out. The demon came from there, and that is where the portal is." Corbin got on his hands and knees and moved under the table to gaze down and see if he could see the bottom of the ladder. As he looked he felt his heart beating faster, and adrenaline pumping - he was looking to see if the broken corpse of a brave Elven maid was lying at the foot of the ladder.
Inky blackness was all the could be seen, an inky blackness combined with the clinging, metallic, acrid scent of blood. Corbin couldn't see the bottom of the escape hatch, but he could see the ladder reaching down into the darkness and he could hear the soft wailing of the wind very close at hand as the air rushed past him, running down into the bowels of the Citadel below as they routinely did at this time of the day for any cave. Of sounds, there came none save the sounds of those that followed him here...and of Bregana, he could see nothing in the pitch black below, a darkness that was untouched by the torchlight that remained above.
Beyond this, there was nothing, the stones of the Citadel quite and lifeless and only the sounds of several flickering torches and eleven heartbeats filling the room.
Beyond this, there was nothing, the stones of the Citadel quite and lifeless and only the sounds of several flickering torches and eleven heartbeats filling the room.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Walking near Corbin left Sosa with a strange, desolate feeling.
At first she attributed this feeling to the dark gloom of the empty Citadel, but with a sharp breath she realised it must be the rosestone.
The walls spinned around her, and she had to breath deep to pull herself together.
The Gods were gone
She had lived with Illuminatus presence for as long as she could remember, he had always been there, in the back of her mind, like a friend, a comfortable piece of clothing, a piece of herself.
She was alone, all alone !
She shuddered again:
Illuminatus, I know you are still there, I know you will not leave us, I know you are watching over me, even if I cannot feel it she whispered over and over again, through white lips..
She fingered her sword, looking for reassurance, another comfortable presence, and followed Corbin until he stopped by a dark opening.
She tried to feel the place, smell it, look through the inky darkness with other senses then her eyes.
Then she took a torch and said:
"OK, I guess we have to go down." She held the torch through the opening and tried to see the room it led in to.
At first she attributed this feeling to the dark gloom of the empty Citadel, but with a sharp breath she realised it must be the rosestone.
The walls spinned around her, and she had to breath deep to pull herself together.
The Gods were gone
She had lived with Illuminatus presence for as long as she could remember, he had always been there, in the back of her mind, like a friend, a comfortable piece of clothing, a piece of herself.
She was alone, all alone !
She shuddered again:
Illuminatus, I know you are still there, I know you will not leave us, I know you are watching over me, even if I cannot feel it she whispered over and over again, through white lips..
She fingered her sword, looking for reassurance, another comfortable presence, and followed Corbin until he stopped by a dark opening.
She tried to feel the place, smell it, look through the inky darkness with other senses then her eyes.
Then she took a torch and said:
"OK, I guess we have to go down." She held the torch through the opening and tried to see the room it led in to.
[size=75]avatar by allavatars.com[/size]
It was an escape passage, and it's value as an escape passage could be seen at once. As Sosa waved her torch over the opening, she could see an ancient ladder leading down, down, into the darkness below...and the mechanism to close the trapdoor from below still in place, though the trapdoor had been smashed through. It would have discouraged any pursuers for some time, allowing any would-be Caesar and his immediate staff the chance to slip below the Citadel and, according to theory, to a waiting boat in a hidden cove somewhere at the edge of the Citadel island. The trapdoor could be repaired, but for now it did little to prevent any of the eleven warriors from seeing below to the floor that awaited them below.
It was a long way down. Corbin did not expect the escape shaft to run so deep, for he had been forced to climb it with all the haste of one chased by nothing less than a demon. Easily fifteen paces in full, the bottom of the shaft could be easily seen by the light of Sosa's torch...but it was clear that no other source of light was to be found below, as if the darkness itself had swallowed up every source of light, however minor, that might intrude upon this perfect, inky gloom.<hr>They're coming.
The Changer was some distance away, devouring the corpse of the mortal it had used to smuggle its body out of the Palace. If anyone had come upon it now, it would have seen a large blob of gelatinous material encasing the form of an adult male, a servant that once went by the name of Christopher, though no one would have recognized the servant by face. After all, he no longer had a face, for the gelatinous blob digested Christopher's body slowly, dissolving first his flesh and then his muscle and then his tissue within, layer after layer, a body dissolving into nothing.
But the Changer was still the ruler of Its minions. A Prince of Its own Hell, the Great Demon would send Its best to try to slay those that had come to undo its works here in the Tether. They would bring with them that thing, the rock that shut out the glory of its power, and so It would have to use Its pets to slay the enemy. Pets It had...It had been busy preparing for this day...and with any luck, those eleven extraordinary mortals would soon become the Changer's newest recruits.
Wait until they are among you, it commanded, holding back the bulk of the minions until the time was perfect. If nothing else, the Changer was patient...so very, very patient...and even if the mortals should win the day, it could always lie in wait for the next chance to bring Its own glorious Hell to the Tether again.
It was a long way down. Corbin did not expect the escape shaft to run so deep, for he had been forced to climb it with all the haste of one chased by nothing less than a demon. Easily fifteen paces in full, the bottom of the shaft could be easily seen by the light of Sosa's torch...but it was clear that no other source of light was to be found below, as if the darkness itself had swallowed up every source of light, however minor, that might intrude upon this perfect, inky gloom.<hr>They're coming.
The Changer was some distance away, devouring the corpse of the mortal it had used to smuggle its body out of the Palace. If anyone had come upon it now, it would have seen a large blob of gelatinous material encasing the form of an adult male, a servant that once went by the name of Christopher, though no one would have recognized the servant by face. After all, he no longer had a face, for the gelatinous blob digested Christopher's body slowly, dissolving first his flesh and then his muscle and then his tissue within, layer after layer, a body dissolving into nothing.
But the Changer was still the ruler of Its minions. A Prince of Its own Hell, the Great Demon would send Its best to try to slay those that had come to undo its works here in the Tether. They would bring with them that thing, the rock that shut out the glory of its power, and so It would have to use Its pets to slay the enemy. Pets It had...It had been busy preparing for this day...and with any luck, those eleven extraordinary mortals would soon become the Changer's newest recruits.
Wait until they are among you, it commanded, holding back the bulk of the minions until the time was perfect. If nothing else, the Changer was patient...so very, very patient...and even if the mortals should win the day, it could always lie in wait for the next chance to bring Its own glorious Hell to the Tether again.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
Corbin Dillon
- Noble Apprentice
- Posts: 623
- Joined: Fri Sep 17, 2004 2:46 pm
Gazing down passed Sosa Corbin could now see the bottom of the ladder - it was much further than he remembered, though many other things had been going through his mind on the way up. He wondered if he would see the crumpled body of Bregana when he got to the bottom. He almost shuddered at the thought, though in his heart he knew he would much rather see that than see her possessed by the foul creature which had pursued them.
"There's no light down there." Corbin commented. "And we won't be able to use magic lights due to the Stone, so it will have to be torchlight that guides us." He said calmly remembering how much easier it had been with Bregana providing the light whilst they explored the depths.
There was silence for a moment.
"Well, I guess there's no time like the present." Corbin said with a determined voice. "I assume the torch won't go out if we toss it down into the catacombs?" Corbin asked. "Just to make sure there's no-one waiting patiently for our arrival." He said, though he knew that no-thing would probably have been a more apt description.
"There's no light down there." Corbin commented. "And we won't be able to use magic lights due to the Stone, so it will have to be torchlight that guides us." He said calmly remembering how much easier it had been with Bregana providing the light whilst they explored the depths.
There was silence for a moment.
"Well, I guess there's no time like the present." Corbin said with a determined voice. "I assume the torch won't go out if we toss it down into the catacombs?" Corbin asked. "Just to make sure there's no-one waiting patiently for our arrival." He said, though he knew that no-thing would probably have been a more apt description.
Indeed, the torches tossed down into the passage remained lit at the bottom, providing a warm, orange glow to which the expedition could descend. With Sosa leading the way, they were soon below in the catacombs, the narrow, monotonous caverns just as Corbin had remembered them to be. The catacombs were, in every way, designed to be the Caesar's last refuge of escape against any pursuing army, and in every detail it was made to be this. The floors were coated in large, rocky gravel that could be swept to remove any distinctions, and the walls were all of the same cut, placed stone that would look the same from one corridor to the next. It looked as if the corridors had been swept recently, for the gravel underfoot was fresh and flat with no tracks in it whatsoever, and of the clinging moisture that had been here only marks before, it was much reduced, the caverns dry and smelling of faint decay and mold.
The torch light only lead off perhaps ten paces in each direction, but once again, it was the distant reflection of walls that told the party where some hallways ended and others did not. Four halls lead away, one in each direction...and while they couldn't be certain of true North, the corridors appeared to be generally straight to follow the points of the compass. To the North and South, the corridor would end perhaps thirty paces away, the faint reflection of a wall coming back to them from their torchlight, though whether the passages turned or halted was unknown. To the East and West, there was only darkness and gloom...a clear indication that the passages continued on beyond even this reflection.
All around them the faint whisper of moving wind could be felt, passing through the catacombs as the rock cooled in the evening, the air rushing up and out of the trapdoor above them. It was this faint wind that had lead Corbin out a short time ago, and it was this wind that also gave the dark under-passages of the Palace it's eery, moaning voice.
OoooooOOOOOooooo...
The torch light only lead off perhaps ten paces in each direction, but once again, it was the distant reflection of walls that told the party where some hallways ended and others did not. Four halls lead away, one in each direction...and while they couldn't be certain of true North, the corridors appeared to be generally straight to follow the points of the compass. To the North and South, the corridor would end perhaps thirty paces away, the faint reflection of a wall coming back to them from their torchlight, though whether the passages turned or halted was unknown. To the East and West, there was only darkness and gloom...a clear indication that the passages continued on beyond even this reflection.
All around them the faint whisper of moving wind could be felt, passing through the catacombs as the rock cooled in the evening, the air rushing up and out of the trapdoor above them. It was this faint wind that had lead Corbin out a short time ago, and it was this wind that also gave the dark under-passages of the Palace it's eery, moaning voice.
OoooooOOOOOooooo...
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
Corbin Dillon
- Noble Apprentice
- Posts: 623
- Joined: Fri Sep 17, 2004 2:46 pm
"We were definitely here." Corbin announced, looking at the clean gravel."Three of us, and whatever was following. We would certainly have left tracks which means they have been erased." Corbin pointed at the grave which betrayed no indications o fthe recent passage. "When I saw the demon, it was gelatinous which would not lend itself to sweeping this gravel - that suggests, therefore, that the demon has more of its minions down here. It is probably not just the demon we face. I would steel yourselves for fighting people you recognise, but who are no longer people." He announced, remembering the Purple guardsman he had fought, and the guardsmen who had stayed behind to guard the room. And Bregana.
Looking about him Corbin tried to remember which corridor he had come from, but it was almost impossible - they all looked identical, and he had lost all his orientation when he had been down here.
"I must admit I do not remember which passage I came through to reach here, but that is not particularly relevant for I did not see the portal so I do not know in which direction it is located. Unless anyone can make an educated guess, I suggest we simply remove the educated from that statement to make our choice." Corbin said, waiting to see if anyone hazarded an opinion.
Looking about him Corbin tried to remember which corridor he had come from, but it was almost impossible - they all looked identical, and he had lost all his orientation when he had been down here.
"I must admit I do not remember which passage I came through to reach here, but that is not particularly relevant for I did not see the portal so I do not know in which direction it is located. Unless anyone can make an educated guess, I suggest we simply remove the educated from that statement to make our choice." Corbin said, waiting to see if anyone hazarded an opinion.
She should have been able to just know which direction to find the Rift. There hadn't been many moments in Sosa's life where an evil of that nature could hide from her. Not only was the Rift a certain gateway to an entire world of evil, but it was unclean and unnatural...making it her very antithesis. She should have known long before she touched down upon the catacomb floor which direction to find the Rift, and she should have been able to guess roughly how far away it was. After all, evil was a very difficult thing to place in most human beings...it was temperamental and subject to time...but in the demonic powers of the Nether, it was as absolute as the stars above.
Here, now, in the catacombs beneath the Citadel, Sosa received no direction. It was indeed as if the heavens themselves had become silent to her, a sensation that was in every way unsettling and complete. It was indeed the Rosestone, and while it stripped away the horrible advantage of the Nether's army, so too did it strip away the holy advantage of the Aether...and left her alone, with only her skill to protect her.
At the bottom of the shaft, Corbin examined the intersection carefully...and while it appeared as if great effort had been spent to deliberately conceal and confuse him regarding which direction he must go...the floors had been swept...a moment of memory returned to him in regards to the ladder. Racing up the ladder, looking down...seeing Bregana's face and her stubborn, impatient look, so very resolute...and with her back away from the rungs...
All at once, Corbin knew that the southward corridor was the one from which he came...and that it would end in an intersection, and that it was to the right where he first confronted the demon. But that was a moment stolen in the past, and he had already seen the way this demon enjoyed it's little game of misdirection...
Here, now, in the catacombs beneath the Citadel, Sosa received no direction. It was indeed as if the heavens themselves had become silent to her, a sensation that was in every way unsettling and complete. It was indeed the Rosestone, and while it stripped away the horrible advantage of the Nether's army, so too did it strip away the holy advantage of the Aether...and left her alone, with only her skill to protect her.
At the bottom of the shaft, Corbin examined the intersection carefully...and while it appeared as if great effort had been spent to deliberately conceal and confuse him regarding which direction he must go...the floors had been swept...a moment of memory returned to him in regards to the ladder. Racing up the ladder, looking down...seeing Bregana's face and her stubborn, impatient look, so very resolute...and with her back away from the rungs...
All at once, Corbin knew that the southward corridor was the one from which he came...and that it would end in an intersection, and that it was to the right where he first confronted the demon. But that was a moment stolen in the past, and he had already seen the way this demon enjoyed it's little game of misdirection...
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
Corbin Dillon
- Noble Apprentice
- Posts: 623
- Joined: Fri Sep 17, 2004 2:46 pm
Corbin gazed about, trying to get his bearings. He pictured the rapid exit they had made from the catacombs, trying to string together inconsequential images and memories, such as what side of the ladder they had noticed when they came in, which way the trap door had opened. Through the process of this mental effort he began to remember things about it - it was a bit like magic, pulling toegther various strands and tying them into a coherent subject. Then he remembered, he remember whence they had come. he turned and stared at the tunnel - that was definitely it. But was that any help? Certainly the demon had been there. That suggested his lair may be in that direction, but it could quite easily have its portal elsewhere. On top of that, he had searched a reasonable amount of that and come across nothing. He turned back to his companions, and gestured towards the southern tunnel.
"That was where we came when we exitted the catacombs, he announced. And that is where we fougt the demon, but we did not come across the portal there. It is possible it is that way, but I could not say for certain. I suggest we retrace my steps down that tunnel, and perhaps the demon will have left some clue as to where we can find it or its lair." Corbin said.
"That was where we came when we exitted the catacombs, he announced. And that is where we fougt the demon, but we did not come across the portal there. It is possible it is that way, but I could not say for certain. I suggest we retrace my steps down that tunnel, and perhaps the demon will have left some clue as to where we can find it or its lair." Corbin said.
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valsert
- Sergeant of the Purple Guard
- Posts: 362
- Joined: Wed Feb 12, 2003 5:34 am
- Location: arkansas
- Contact:
Valsert looked at those gathered, then down the path of darkness. The howling, the darkness, the waiting evil....it all sat heavy on him. Then eyes bright in the torch light, he locked gazes with those brave enuf to be standing with him.
"There is naught left for me above. My career, my ceaser...my very live, all gone.
No matter which path leads to the damn hole, each path will need to be checked before the city is safe again. Let us be off in the direction you recall most.....
I will take the lead."
With that, Val steped forward to the edge of the torch light, and waited for confermation the others would follow.
"There is naught left for me above. My career, my ceaser...my very live, all gone.
No matter which path leads to the damn hole, each path will need to be checked before the city is safe again. Let us be off in the direction you recall most.....
I will take the lead."
With that, Val steped forward to the edge of the torch light, and waited for confermation the others would follow.
It was never wise to think of them as merely dogs. Once upon a time they had been only this, animals bent upon little more than a need to survive and to investigate whatever unusual smells came their way. Those that made the very sad mistake of declaring them dogs might indeed suffer a rather cruel realization only moments before they suffered a rather cruel death, for these not-quite-dogs were nearly as single-minded as their mortal counterparts.
To manufacture a Hound of Hell, one needed precious few things. For a start, one needed...a hound. Any canine would do, and despite numerous attempts in the past, a wolf simply would not do. It had to be a hound...and the very breed of the hound did indeed matter. Larger breeds made for the more ideal Hellhound, while smaller breeds often produced a more insidious, legerdemain animal capable of great duplicity and cunning.
With hound in hand, the enterprising Demonologist might then perform the rights to possess the animal...though this possession wasn't quite the same as that which most mortals came to understand. In this possession, a spirit from Hell came through the summoning and bound itself to the animal in such a way that it altered the poor creature beyond any recognition. Of course, the 'dog' was gone...but in it's place was something not-quite-dog, not-quite-demon, and clearly not of this world.
Valsert had seen it's kind before. There were two, then...two great animals that guarded the Basilisk's Stare, clearly summoned by one of the denizens within to protect the rather seedy institution. With stunning familiarity, he could remember the inky-black coat upon them...a coat that seemed to be made of the shadows themselves...and the formless, shapeless, shifting mass of muscle beneath this dark exterior. The red, glowing eyes gazed outward, expressing a limitless sense of hate and rage that no amount of bloodshed would ever satiate. What once might have been claws were transformed into razor-like scythes, eath one sharp as a razor and hard as tempered steel. Above all else, they were unnatural. He had seen them race, run, and bound along the walls as if the ground itself refused to make them obey, giving them an entirely new set of physical laws to which they must obey.
The group had only moved a few steps forward, with Valsert in the lead and Corbin hanging back closer to Sosa and the remaining Purple Guardsmen. When he saw the first of the horrible, black shapes, it was as nothing more than a shadow upon the black interior of the catacombs...a perfect dark amid the imperfect dark left by the fickle, orange glow of the torches behind him. But it had been enough. Sliding over the cavern's walls were more of the insidious beings...perhaps four, perhaps six, perhaps twenty, he could not tell...and they were charging fast, the clickity clickity click of their razor-like claws tapping upon the stones of both sides of the cavern up ahead though the not-quite-dogs made no other sound at all.
They were closing fast...and they would be upon the small expedition in another few heartbeats.
To manufacture a Hound of Hell, one needed precious few things. For a start, one needed...a hound. Any canine would do, and despite numerous attempts in the past, a wolf simply would not do. It had to be a hound...and the very breed of the hound did indeed matter. Larger breeds made for the more ideal Hellhound, while smaller breeds often produced a more insidious, legerdemain animal capable of great duplicity and cunning.
With hound in hand, the enterprising Demonologist might then perform the rights to possess the animal...though this possession wasn't quite the same as that which most mortals came to understand. In this possession, a spirit from Hell came through the summoning and bound itself to the animal in such a way that it altered the poor creature beyond any recognition. Of course, the 'dog' was gone...but in it's place was something not-quite-dog, not-quite-demon, and clearly not of this world.
Valsert had seen it's kind before. There were two, then...two great animals that guarded the Basilisk's Stare, clearly summoned by one of the denizens within to protect the rather seedy institution. With stunning familiarity, he could remember the inky-black coat upon them...a coat that seemed to be made of the shadows themselves...and the formless, shapeless, shifting mass of muscle beneath this dark exterior. The red, glowing eyes gazed outward, expressing a limitless sense of hate and rage that no amount of bloodshed would ever satiate. What once might have been claws were transformed into razor-like scythes, eath one sharp as a razor and hard as tempered steel. Above all else, they were unnatural. He had seen them race, run, and bound along the walls as if the ground itself refused to make them obey, giving them an entirely new set of physical laws to which they must obey.
The group had only moved a few steps forward, with Valsert in the lead and Corbin hanging back closer to Sosa and the remaining Purple Guardsmen. When he saw the first of the horrible, black shapes, it was as nothing more than a shadow upon the black interior of the catacombs...a perfect dark amid the imperfect dark left by the fickle, orange glow of the torches behind him. But it had been enough. Sliding over the cavern's walls were more of the insidious beings...perhaps four, perhaps six, perhaps twenty, he could not tell...and they were charging fast, the clickity clickity click of their razor-like claws tapping upon the stones of both sides of the cavern up ahead though the not-quite-dogs made no other sound at all.
They were closing fast...and they would be upon the small expedition in another few heartbeats.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
Corbin Dillon
- Noble Apprentice
- Posts: 623
- Joined: Fri Sep 17, 2004 2:46 pm
He heard them first. The sound of their paws, or their claws, or whatever part of their anatomy it was, advancing with great speed, was unnerving. Then he saw them, and the desire to recoil from something so unnatural was strong in him. He forced himself into action, drawing his sword, to suppress the feelings of revulsion that spread through him as he saw these creatures running on the damned walls.
“On your guard.†He said loudly and calmly, warning his companions. He was sure they were fully aware of what as approaching, but speaking helped him control himself as he face these vile monstrosities. The fact that the dogs, or whatever infernal version they were, made no sound other than their motion was even more bewitching. Had they been baying with blood lust, or growling and snarling, he would have felt far more content facing them, but the lack of noise almost promised that they would not attack, though Corbin knew this to be false.
Corbin held his sword in a diagonal guard position, prepared to slash at, or impale, whichever creature veered close to him first. The fact that the weapons of these creatures were their teeth and claws meant that they would have to get in close to him to do damage – and he trusted that he would be able to do enough damage to them before they closed to stop them. He didn’t know how many of them there were, but he just hoped they were not as resilient as the possessed Purple Guardsman he had faced before – if they were, then this expedition may be over before it had really begun.
With firm resolution he fixed his feet in the ground, shoulder-width apart and tensed his legs prepared to strike and move, or move and strike, depending on what the situation through up. He didn't have the time, at this moment, to wonder what effect, if any, the Rosestone would have on the hounds as they came within its radius.
“On your guard.†He said loudly and calmly, warning his companions. He was sure they were fully aware of what as approaching, but speaking helped him control himself as he face these vile monstrosities. The fact that the dogs, or whatever infernal version they were, made no sound other than their motion was even more bewitching. Had they been baying with blood lust, or growling and snarling, he would have felt far more content facing them, but the lack of noise almost promised that they would not attack, though Corbin knew this to be false.
Corbin held his sword in a diagonal guard position, prepared to slash at, or impale, whichever creature veered close to him first. The fact that the weapons of these creatures were their teeth and claws meant that they would have to get in close to him to do damage – and he trusted that he would be able to do enough damage to them before they closed to stop them. He didn’t know how many of them there were, but he just hoped they were not as resilient as the possessed Purple Guardsman he had faced before – if they were, then this expedition may be over before it had really begun.
With firm resolution he fixed his feet in the ground, shoulder-width apart and tensed his legs prepared to strike and move, or move and strike, depending on what the situation through up. He didn't have the time, at this moment, to wonder what effect, if any, the Rosestone would have on the hounds as they came within its radius.
It was a hunger. From the moment they were born to the moment they died, the Beasts knew nothing but hunger. Theirs was a ravenous, horrifying, painful hunger that gnawed within them like some kind of acidic pollution, setting their stomachs and entrails on fire and driving them mad with the insatiable need to feed. Precious little could divert them from their horrifying, desperate challenge...and nothing of this world could pause them in their relentless assault upon their next prey.
But something was wrong. As soon as the hellish canines came close enough to the infamous Rosestone, things changed for them and the world took hold of them as if they were forced to obey the same principles of logic that ruled all the other mortals of this world. Falling from the walls, the Beasts lept to the floor, their charge momentarily stunned by the sudden onslaught of gravity.
Regardless of how unexpected the sudden change might have been, the Hounds of Hell didn't cease their charge. Leaping forward, they descended upon the first ranks of Purple Guardsmen, their razor-sharp claws raking across shields and armor as their teeth snapped out, one set closing over a footman's neck with savage finality. Standing among these earliest of guards, Valsert took their charge full upon him, two of the suddenly more mundane creatures charging in like any pair of wolves.
Where Corbin stood just behind the first rank of Purple Guardsmen, he could tell at once that they would soon be overrun. There were dozens of Hellhounds, and only eleven of them...and the magi behind him would no doubt be largely helpless in the coming struggle. Four of the guardsmen stood at the fore...Valsert among them...while Corbin remained back with the other three (which did indeed include Sosa). For now, he was not in the fighting...but it was unlikely the dogs wouldn't break through to him very soon.
But something was wrong. As soon as the hellish canines came close enough to the infamous Rosestone, things changed for them and the world took hold of them as if they were forced to obey the same principles of logic that ruled all the other mortals of this world. Falling from the walls, the Beasts lept to the floor, their charge momentarily stunned by the sudden onslaught of gravity.
Regardless of how unexpected the sudden change might have been, the Hounds of Hell didn't cease their charge. Leaping forward, they descended upon the first ranks of Purple Guardsmen, their razor-sharp claws raking across shields and armor as their teeth snapped out, one set closing over a footman's neck with savage finality. Standing among these earliest of guards, Valsert took their charge full upon him, two of the suddenly more mundane creatures charging in like any pair of wolves.
Where Corbin stood just behind the first rank of Purple Guardsmen, he could tell at once that they would soon be overrun. There were dozens of Hellhounds, and only eleven of them...and the magi behind him would no doubt be largely helpless in the coming struggle. Four of the guardsmen stood at the fore...Valsert among them...while Corbin remained back with the other three (which did indeed include Sosa). For now, he was not in the fighting...but it was unlikely the dogs wouldn't break through to him very soon.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
valsert
- Sergeant of the Purple Guard
- Posts: 362
- Joined: Wed Feb 12, 2003 5:34 am
- Location: arkansas
- Contact:
The last few days had been devastating to his confidence and faith in the blessings of the gods and at first the rose stone only added to this. To have the power of the gods striped away simply by the creation of a rock. Yet with the hard lesion the hounds had learned from the rose stone today, his faith was restored. The power of the gods themselves were what created the stone and thru it they had extended the greatest tool against this darkness…a gift…a blessing, as powerful as if they had come personally to fight beside the heroes of Light.
His blade was already at hand, and was put quickly to work. Stepping forward, Valsert drove his sword spear like toward the heart of the hound that was busy devouring its kill. Then quickly pulling it back so that his shield arm would be ready to accept whichever beast came at him. He did not know if the hide of these beasts would be affected by the blessing of the rose stone, and allow his blade to find its mark, nor did it matter. All that mattered was to fight.
“Stand ready all…. they can not all come at once! Close quarters! Block hard and look for an opening from another’s parry!†He shouted, even as his words reminded him of the ally just the day before. How many Guards had died because of his order to rally and defend? How many…. not now! He thought as he forced the memory from his mind…. emptying it of everything but the battle in front of him.
The song of battle was different this time. The clashing of swords and armor seemed replaced with the sound of steel on stone and flesh. The inner battle between rage and light also seemed different in his soul, the two parts of his warriors whole did not surge upward in him as tendrils of emotion and power as they had in the past. Instead they mixed and swirled as a raging cyclone…. Had the gods found a way past the rose stone, thru his spirit? Or was it all simply his imagination. It did not matter much, no matter what the truth was, it lent him the courage, and the power to stand firm.
As a hound reached them, Val swung his shield hard at the beast’s head and neck, hoping to give it pause enough to allow the other guards to strike true even as his own sword lashed out at the other hounds charging form.
His blade was already at hand, and was put quickly to work. Stepping forward, Valsert drove his sword spear like toward the heart of the hound that was busy devouring its kill. Then quickly pulling it back so that his shield arm would be ready to accept whichever beast came at him. He did not know if the hide of these beasts would be affected by the blessing of the rose stone, and allow his blade to find its mark, nor did it matter. All that mattered was to fight.
“Stand ready all…. they can not all come at once! Close quarters! Block hard and look for an opening from another’s parry!†He shouted, even as his words reminded him of the ally just the day before. How many Guards had died because of his order to rally and defend? How many…. not now! He thought as he forced the memory from his mind…. emptying it of everything but the battle in front of him.
The song of battle was different this time. The clashing of swords and armor seemed replaced with the sound of steel on stone and flesh. The inner battle between rage and light also seemed different in his soul, the two parts of his warriors whole did not surge upward in him as tendrils of emotion and power as they had in the past. Instead they mixed and swirled as a raging cyclone…. Had the gods found a way past the rose stone, thru his spirit? Or was it all simply his imagination. It did not matter much, no matter what the truth was, it lent him the courage, and the power to stand firm.
As a hound reached them, Val swung his shield hard at the beast’s head and neck, hoping to give it pause enough to allow the other guards to strike true even as his own sword lashed out at the other hounds charging form.
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Corbin Dillon
- Noble Apprentice
- Posts: 623
- Joined: Fri Sep 17, 2004 2:46 pm
Corbin was nervous. His exterior remained resolute, but how was it not possible to be nervous when denizens of the hells were charging you down? What made matters worse was that he was not in the first rank to face them. It would have been so much easier if he had been there, prepare to meet the charge - instead he was stood behind. He knew it made sense - whilst he did have a reasonable skill with the sword, he did not practice with as much intensity or regularity as the Guardsmen. Besides that he bore the Rosestone, and that needed to remain in their hands - he could not throw his life away and in doing so lose the Rosestone.
His fingers flexed and unflexed on the grip of his sword - the wait for the beasts to reach them seemed interminable, it was if time was slowing down and with each passing second his nerves threatened to override his discipline. In the brief seconds he had before contact, he used the meditation techniques normally used before casting spells to centre himself and become as aware as he could of the surroundings and himself.
His fingers flexed and unflexed on the grip of his sword - the wait for the beasts to reach them seemed interminable, it was if time was slowing down and with each passing second his nerves threatened to override his discipline. In the brief seconds he had before contact, he used the meditation techniques normally used before casting spells to centre himself and become as aware as he could of the surroundings and himself.
In a world where magic was almost routinely seen as reality, things were seldom truly equal. Whether it was one enchantment or another, a divine observance, a spell or a spirit, the Tether was never left unchallenged by the mystical forces underlying everything. In many cases, it's influence could not be perceived and would do little to affect events in this world, but in other cases, magick literally changed the rules by which people and creatures lived.
The Hounds of Hell were typical of those creatures that mocked and disregarded the rules of the Tether. Created from infernal power and linked to the Nether beyond, they were a mockery of living tissue three times as strong, three times as fast, and obeying none of the common laws of physics that held all mundane people and things in check. They had become quite accustomed to their strange and powerful existence, an existence that Valsert had seen in action one terrifying moment before. But as they neared the Rosestone and crashed into the front rank of Purple Defenders, their world suddenly changed.
Now they were bound by the same laws that governed all the Tether. No longer did they enjoy their infernal power, and gone was their great strength, great speed, and unworldly abilities to leap over buildings and stand upon walls. While the Purple Guard bemoaned the distant absence of their Gods and the magi bemoaned the distant absence of the Aether, so too did the Hounds of Hell bemoan their loss of the Nether, rendering them nothing more than a pack of angry, wild dogs.
And a pack of angry, wild dogs stood no chance against a rank of armed, prepared defenders. As soon as the pack reached the first line, they offered far less opposition than Valsert had anticipated. Striking into the presented shields of the Purple Guardsmen, three of the hounds fell to their counterattacks at once, causing the remaining group...perhaps another ten, though they were very hard to count....to flee in terror.
"Do we pursue?" barked one of the Guardsmen, shouting back towards Sosa.
"We better not," came the voice of Acantha, who was armed with a glaive and hadn't yet shown any real need to use it. Corbin hadn't needed to use his sword either, an almost depressing situation given that he had been prepared standing just behind the front line of Purple Guardsmen. Indeed, the Rosestone in his possession had been that which turned away the Hounds, and while it's curious power had ruined and broken Hell's legions, it never for a moment changed. No strange glow, no warmth or cold, no change at all, though it did seem to grow steadily heavier as he carried it.
In moments, the path was clear, the dogs having retreated. Up ahead, Corbin could see the path end in the "T" intersection he remembered. He never explored the left branch of the tunnels, where the dogs fled...but he remembered coming from the right branch. After that turn and at the end of the hall would be the place where he and Bregana first encountered the Changer...and the nude woman trapped within It.
The Hounds of Hell were typical of those creatures that mocked and disregarded the rules of the Tether. Created from infernal power and linked to the Nether beyond, they were a mockery of living tissue three times as strong, three times as fast, and obeying none of the common laws of physics that held all mundane people and things in check. They had become quite accustomed to their strange and powerful existence, an existence that Valsert had seen in action one terrifying moment before. But as they neared the Rosestone and crashed into the front rank of Purple Defenders, their world suddenly changed.
Now they were bound by the same laws that governed all the Tether. No longer did they enjoy their infernal power, and gone was their great strength, great speed, and unworldly abilities to leap over buildings and stand upon walls. While the Purple Guard bemoaned the distant absence of their Gods and the magi bemoaned the distant absence of the Aether, so too did the Hounds of Hell bemoan their loss of the Nether, rendering them nothing more than a pack of angry, wild dogs.
And a pack of angry, wild dogs stood no chance against a rank of armed, prepared defenders. As soon as the pack reached the first line, they offered far less opposition than Valsert had anticipated. Striking into the presented shields of the Purple Guardsmen, three of the hounds fell to their counterattacks at once, causing the remaining group...perhaps another ten, though they were very hard to count....to flee in terror.
"Do we pursue?" barked one of the Guardsmen, shouting back towards Sosa.
"We better not," came the voice of Acantha, who was armed with a glaive and hadn't yet shown any real need to use it. Corbin hadn't needed to use his sword either, an almost depressing situation given that he had been prepared standing just behind the front line of Purple Guardsmen. Indeed, the Rosestone in his possession had been that which turned away the Hounds, and while it's curious power had ruined and broken Hell's legions, it never for a moment changed. No strange glow, no warmth or cold, no change at all, though it did seem to grow steadily heavier as he carried it.
In moments, the path was clear, the dogs having retreated. Up ahead, Corbin could see the path end in the "T" intersection he remembered. He never explored the left branch of the tunnels, where the dogs fled...but he remembered coming from the right branch. After that turn and at the end of the hall would be the place where he and Bregana first encountered the Changer...and the nude woman trapped within It.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
Corbin Dillon
- Noble Apprentice
- Posts: 623
- Joined: Fri Sep 17, 2004 2:46 pm
Corbin's brow furrowed as the hounds crashed into the front line, his whole body was ready at slash at whatever creature broke through. Not only was he ready, but he WANTED it. He wanted to strike a blow back at what had taken Bregana, even an indirect blow. His whole body was tensed to strike with as much skill and force as possible. But the line didn't break - it didn't even falter. Like a pack of whipped curs the supposed hounds from hell scampered back whence they'd come.
Corbin relaxed his stance as he saw that they had beat a full retreat, and instinctively he knew that the Rosestone has worked. If it could turn those slathering and unnatural creatures into meres pups, what else would it do? Suddenly facing the demon and its hordes was not so threatening. Adrenaline was still rushing through his body and he felt himself begin to shake - not from fear, but he worried that others might notice it so he gripped his sword tight and was all-action, striding forwards to survey the corpses of the hounds.
Looking up he could see the direction the dogs were fleeing, it was to the left, and he also recognised the junction. He had come from the right when he had escaped the catacombs, he remembered that now.
"When I was last here I came from the right branch." He said solidly, pointing his sword to that branch. "I never ventured down the left-hand one. As that is where the dogs have fled, I suggest we follow them - surely those whipped curs will retreat to a place they seek safe, a place of power and quite possibly the portal we seek." As he said that he turned to Professor Moore to see if he had any words of support or dissent for this proposed plan.
Corbin relaxed his stance as he saw that they had beat a full retreat, and instinctively he knew that the Rosestone has worked. If it could turn those slathering and unnatural creatures into meres pups, what else would it do? Suddenly facing the demon and its hordes was not so threatening. Adrenaline was still rushing through his body and he felt himself begin to shake - not from fear, but he worried that others might notice it so he gripped his sword tight and was all-action, striding forwards to survey the corpses of the hounds.
Looking up he could see the direction the dogs were fleeing, it was to the left, and he also recognised the junction. He had come from the right when he had escaped the catacombs, he remembered that now.
"When I was last here I came from the right branch." He said solidly, pointing his sword to that branch. "I never ventured down the left-hand one. As that is where the dogs have fled, I suggest we follow them - surely those whipped curs will retreat to a place they seek safe, a place of power and quite possibly the portal we seek." As he said that he turned to Professor Moore to see if he had any words of support or dissent for this proposed plan.