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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Sept 7, 2017 1:19:37 GMT
"I'd love to," Ver muttered back, "if I knew what to plan for besides a lot of lich. At the moment, the best I can come up with is to get the rest of the Imarian as quickly as possible and then run for it. Either that or I'll try to block up the Mouth somehow- pull down rocks in front of it, something like that- and we'll go from there. Do you have any ideas?
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Sept 8, 2017 19:26:45 GMT
Deep within the Hinterlands on Korriban a sport of cruelty began. For some, it was a way to profit off the foolhardy and the bloodthirsty, for others it was raucous amusement. But for the fighters themselves, the sport was what they lived for. And what they died for.
Pegnog Hidleefist, entrepreneur and restraunt manager, found the food business to be too harsh on Korriban. Not for the viciousness of the competitors, but the lack of fine-dining enthusiasts in the Hinterlands. His restraunt fell on hard times, and he thought he might have to close down, for he seldom saw two customers a week.
Until with a spark of genius he did bring the customers in. Flowing in and barging down the doors. Customers with big appetites for what Pegnog now offered - seats to watch fights. And with them came their stomach, and Pegnog knew what to do with those.
But the customers wanted more. The diner grew, the sport grew. He built an arena and hired poeple to walk up and down the aisles selling food. But what they really wanted... was blood. And everyy chef knows he must give the customer what he wants...
Pegnog found those force-sensitives who belonged to neither the Jedi nor the Sith, though their hearts were fully black.
And so Pegnog Hidleefist became entrepreneur, restaraunt manager, and entertainer.
((Name: Marmak Pobar
Pronunciation: MAR-mac PO-bar
Age: Late 30s
Gender: Male
Position: Gladiator Initiate
Species: Aar'aa
Appearance: Lizard-like. He has scaly skin that changes color to blend into his surroundings. He has a fin on top of his head. His eyebrows hang heavily over his orange eyes.
Clothing: He has a black, plated skirt sort of thing.
Weapons: He carries almost a dozen boomerang type weapons which will electrocute you if hit by them.
Personality: For a Dark Sider, he's emotionally sensitive. Don't let him here you say that. This usually plays to his advantage, though, because he can read someone's emotions and use that to his advantage. He's the sort of person who would offer you a painkiller before he finishes you.
Abilities: He can jump very high, even without the force to aid him. He has a wicked strong throwing arm and can hit almost anything within 50 feet. He has some proficiency in the Force.
Weaknesses: He's a little scrawnier than most Aar'aa. He is not good at multi-tasking. Or multi-fighting.
History: Former Republic mercenary. Was discharged from his duties for hiding that he had some skill in using the force (especially the dark side).))
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Sept 19, 2017 6:44:08 GMT
"I'd love to," Ver muttered back, "if I knew what to plan for besides a lot of lich. At the moment, the best I can come up with is to get the rest of the Imarian as quickly as possible and then run for it. Either that or I'll try to block up the Mouth somehow- pull down rocks in front of it, something like that- and we'll go from there. Do you have any ideas? "Block the Mouth is a good idea. If there are even rocks in Chaos." Valene cracked her knuckles and winced. "How about I distract them and you do what you can do with the Mouth." (( Warrior of Aror: Shall we see where this takes us? Name: Randor Chakamit Pronunciation: RAN-dor cha-KAM-mit Age: Late teens or early twenties Gender: Male Position: Gladiator Initiate Species: Human Appearance: Short and athletic with wide shoulders and a sullen posture. White-blond hair, night-bleached skin, dark blue eyes verging on purple. Wears heavy armour but no helmet. Personality: Stubborn, sullen, dogged, prone to caustic outbursts. Weapons: A Force-imbued broadsword and a small electrical buckler. Abilities/Weaknesses: A Mighty Glacier in gladiator fighting—very slow, rarely offensive, but able to take a large amount of damage and deal it back when he gets up to speed. Attacks with both Force and sword. Hates people. Hates gladiator fighting. Does not want to be here. History: Used to be a Sith initiate, and after that, used to live in the Korriban underground as part of a criminal crew, where he used his Force powers to support his team. Was forced into service as a gladiator after Hidleefist's gangs dismantled his crew and captured him.)) |
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Sept 20, 2017 16:27:34 GMT
(( Dmitri Pendragon Absolutely! I think NightBlade will also be joining the fight soon.)) Pegnog Hidleefist pressed a button and his seat at the head of the arena raised up. He cleared his throat and raised the microphone. His husky, trunkish voice blasted over the intercoms, drowning out the raucous cheering and jeering of the audience. "Welcome ladies and gentlemen, Hutts and Sullustans, Chiss, Bothans, and other scoundrels from across the galaxy!" An enormous cheer issued from the crowd. "Welcome to the first game of the Autumnal Season! I am positively tickled to announce that we have a whole new line up of Force-sensitive contestants who were so eager to 'volunteer'! In addition we have several seasoned veterans who will be joining us again. After all, who wouldn't want to come back? And now, let us begin! Our first contest is between lizard-freak Marmak Pobar and white-haired boy Randor Chakamit! And if things get a little slow, maybe we'll throw someone else in, eh? Let the battle to the death begin!" Then he added in a faster breath. "Also you can get any free side with your food order of ten credits or more - today only, don't miss out!" --- Marmak Pobar crouched on the balls of his feet, staring at the ground. He was in a dark cell, almost pitch black. The guards who had herded him in had left. And so it was just him - and the multitude outside. He could hear their muffled roars, and like heat to water it built up within him a boiling pensiveness. Both eagerness and hesitancy filled his mind. But he knew his fate was already decided. He clenched his jaw and waited. He tried to think no more of what he would have to do. Then came a harsh chink of metal. Gears moved. The door into the arena slowly raised and red light poured in, blinding him for a moment and turning his skin to a fiery brooding color, like a volcano about to unleash its anger. He stepped out. His shadowed eyes glowed like fresh blood on the point of a spear. And he wondered who he would have to kill. |
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Post by NightBlade on Sept 23, 2017 1:48:22 GMT
(Sorry for the slow, I've been starting a new job, plus I got selected to lead a design team for a big legit design project! Anyhoo here's my character, can't wait to FIGHT)
-Name: Tathask
-Race, Gender: Barabel Male
-Appearance: Hulking, crisscrossed with broken scales and scars, and sporting metal-plated fangs and claws. Has one dull artificial eye, and the other eye glitters madly from behind a metal cage riveted onto his skull like a lantern.
-Weapons, Armor: Wields a phrik-plated vibro-axe with ease that many humanoids can hardly lift. It has two broad heads, a long (1.5 meter) handle, and a spike on the butt end. His armor is somewhat minimal, only covering his forearms, shins, and upper torso, but it is very thick and allows him frightening mobility.
-Abilities: His command of the Force is very simple but has great raw potential. He mainly harnesses it as a boost to strength, speed, and stamina, but is able to channel it into pushing, pulling or simple manipulation.
-Nature: Even more savage and violent than typifies his race. His life of tribal warfare lead into a life of compulsory warfare for the entertainment and gain of others, and he has embraced it completely. He greets every fight with a maddened frenzy for violence and takes damage without flinching before breaking his opponents to pieces.
-History: As previously hinted at, Tathask was captured as a young tribal warrior to fight in small scale gladiatorial fights, before gaining the attention of Dark Side practitioners. He proved to be absolutely untrainable in the finer commands of the Force, but also proved to be an absolutely indomitable fighter. Therefore, he returned to the gladiator ‘life’, under the sadistic administration of the Dark Side.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Sept 23, 2017 19:35:26 GMT
((Awesome character, NightBlade! And congrats on the project! That's super cool.))
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Oct 6, 2017 21:06:36 GMT
Randor stood outside his gate, eyes closed, the tip of his sword planted in the sand. Dying sparks crackled along his armour, stinging his skin through the metal. He ignored them. He couldn't not ignore them.
A thunderstorm roared and seethed in the hollows of his mind, battering against constraints of bone and flesh. The winds chased away thought, emotion, willpower. He watched. He couldn't not watch. To shut out the storm would be an act of willpower, and he had no will left to resist the storm.
The Force whispered to him. No words, just a breath. An awareness. A certainty. The bitter tang of coming death.
Randor took a breath, opened his eyes, and watched his opponent step out of the gate.
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Oct 7, 2017 2:03:06 GMT
"I'd love to," Ver muttered back, "if I knew what to plan for besides a lot of lich. At the moment, the best I can come up with is to get the rest of the Imarian as quickly as possible and then run for it. Either that or I'll try to block up the Mouth somehow- pull down rocks in front of it, something like that- and we'll go from there. Do you have any ideas? "Block the Mouth is a good idea. If there are even rocks in Chaos." Valene cracked her knuckles and winced. "How about I distract them and you do what you can do with the Mouth." But what other option did they have? Ver nodded sharply. "Fine. Just stay alive. Don't do anything too crazy. And if you have the chance to get the other Imarien out and run, then take it and don't worry about me. Understand?" Save |
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Oct 11, 2017 7:12:54 GMT
VALENE presented a formal salute. "See you when we're done, Master." She ignited her lightsaber and approached the shimmering veil, moving with decision but caution all the same.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Oct 11, 2017 13:34:03 GMT
Marmak snatched two boomerangs from his back and advanced. He bounded across the sand on his reptilian feet. In a blur he unleashed one boomerang aimed at Randor's feet and a second that went far amiss. It rebounded against the far wall shot straight for Randor's back.
---
Pegnog watched the beginnings of the fight with little interest. He was more concerned with pie sales at present. But before he left the podium to manage the restaurant, he turned to a swarthy, leathery animal and said, "Get the Barabel ready - the one who calls himself Tathask. Put him in the cage and release him when they actually start to fight a little. Give the creature a few lashes to inspire him."
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Oct 14, 2017 16:51:49 GMT
Valene presented a formal salute. "See you when we're done, Master." She ignited her lightsaber and approached the shimmering veil, moving with decision but caution all the same. "See you then." Ver saluted back, trying to ignore her misgivings about this plan. She waited a few moments, to give Valene time to start her distraction, and then followed through the veil. ((Sorry if I misinterpreted what's going on; if I did let me know and I'll edit.)) Save |
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Oct 20, 2017 4:55:36 GMT
Randor didn't move. The first boomerang crashed into his feet, and he crumpled under the blow, dropping his sword. Electrical arcs coursed through his armour and smoke rose from the joints. The second boomerang zipped overhead.
Randor struggled to his feet and blew the sand from his lips. He retrieved his sword, eyes on Marmak, and broke into a ponderous jog directly toward his opponent.
The veil fell as Ver passed through it, making the scene immediately clear. Saber in hand, Valene stalked toward a group of more than a dozen lich surrounding a small group of captives blindfolded and bound together at the wrists. The lich—fifteen, sixteen—stood limply in a circle, facing outwards. Each pulsed a dim green, though the glow brightened with each passing moment.
Beyond the circle of captives, the ground sloped sharply down into a black pit at least twenty feet across. The pit fell away into…nothing. Nothingness. Darkness with no form or sheen. A geyser of what appeared to be black fluid spurted thousands of feet into the air and hung in the sky like ink splashed across a blood-red canvas.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Oct 21, 2017 13:32:08 GMT
Marmak caught the second boomerang with his rubber glove. He backed away and edged around the wall of the arena as the man approached. His heart thumped deafeningly in his ears. Then with snake-like speed he unleashed another two boomerangs, both aimed directly at Randor's midsection. Even as the boomerangs sped through the air Marmak leapt forward on his powerful feet and swiped another boomerang at Randor's feet.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Oct 25, 2017 19:35:43 GMT
Randor slid to a stop and smacked the first two boomerangs out of the air, sending them crashing into the ground either side of him. His Force-imbued broadsword absorbed the electrical charge.
The third boomerang hit his ankle and sent another round of electrical arcs through his armour. He stiffened, his face twisting in pain. Rivets blew free on one shoulder pauldron, and white smoke gushed.
The storm called his name.
Randor crashed to his knees.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Oct 31, 2017 19:28:53 GMT
Marmak sauntered up to Randor with his highest powered boomerang in hand and prepared to give the final blow. This was... easy. It made him feel a little hesitant to end it so quickly. (( NightBlade?)) |
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Oct 31, 2017 23:25:42 GMT
The lizard stepped into reach.
Randor lunged from his kneeling position, driving his sword at Marmak's stomach. His eyes glowed white he regained his feet and continued his lunge with all his weight behind the blow. Along the blade of his sword, electrical fire built to a white-hot crescendo, scorching the surroundings and singeing Randor's eyebrows.
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Feb 28, 2018 2:38:49 GMT
The veil fell as Ver passed through it, making the scene immediately clear. Saber in hand, Valene stalked toward a group of more than a dozen lich surrounding a small group of captives blindfolded and bound together at the wrists. The lich—fifteen, sixteen—stood limply in a circle, facing outwards. Each pulsed a dim green, though the glow brightened with each passing moment. Beyond the circle of captives, the ground sloped sharply down into a black pit at least twenty feet across. The pit fell away into…nothing. Nothingness. Darkness with no form or sheen. A geyser of what appeared to be black fluid spurted thousands of feet into the air and hung in the sky like ink splashed across a blood-red canvas. When their mysterious direction-giver had told them of the Mouth, Ver had pictured a cave in the side of a craggy cliff, not a death-liquid-spraying hole in the ground. This might be harder than I thought.
First things first. Cover. Valene's distraction wouldn't do much good if Ver just stood around exposed. Ver glanced around, spotted a convenient outcrop of rocks, and made a dash for it. Better. Temporarily safe, Ver glanced out again. No loose rocks. Not that any loose rocks would be large enough to cover the Mouth, and Ver had a suspicion that it couldn't be filled in. Could I move the ground itself? Not out of the question; Ver had seen her Master do it once before. But it required tapping into the Force energy of the earth itself; would Chaos allow that? Only one way to find out. With another quick glance at Valene to check her situation, Ver planted a hand on the ground and reached out, searching for the Force presence she needed. |
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Mar 7, 2018 9:03:27 GMT
((Hey, sorry for getting around to this so late. I read it and planned to reply but forgot.  I hope to be more on top of things really soon.)) The Force leapt eagerly to Ver's probing, throbbing black and polluted beneath her fingertips. |
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Mar 7, 2018 14:53:57 GMT
((You're good. Actually, your timing is pretty good for me; I was running around like a madwoman until these last couple days.))
Ver instinctively recoiled from the wrongness of the power at her fingertips. If this isn't the very darkest side of the Force . . . But what more could she expect in Chaos? Her skin crawled at the thought of touching it again, but . . . I don't have a choice. Not if I want to save anyone. She would do what she had to do to prevent more death.
Momentarily, her thoughts flashed back to what she'd seen in the Mirror. To the dark version of herself. Was doing what she had to do the first step down that path? Maybe. But she had to risk it. Had to try to save the Imarien, Valene . . . she wasn't sure if there was any hope for Mandalore anymore, but that too if she could. So, she planted both her hands on the ground, grabbed hold of the Force, ignoring its dark pollution, and reached deep into the ground below, seeking faults and fissures to exploit.
At first, nothing happened. Then the ground rumbled, began to shake. On the far side of the Mouth, away from the Imarien and the lich, a crack opened and a section of dark earth began to slide towards the Mouth to close it up.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Mar 13, 2018 15:17:41 GMT
((I... let this thread die for 4 months. Sorry Dmitri.))
Marmak toppled over backwards at Randor's counterattack. The sword missed his stomach but hit his eye. He nearly lost consciousness as his scaly skin smoked and shriveled up like a raisin. The gray sky faded. He pushed with all his effort and rolled to one side - it was all he could do to give himself a bit of space from his opponent. But he could not get up. He felt as if he were another lizard altogether when he reached up and felt his eye. "Filthy human," he spat.
The crowd cheered like an industrial machine in his ear. "Death! Death! Death! Death!" They loved a twist ending.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Mar 17, 2018 4:24:43 GMT
The Dark Force exulted under Ver's manipulation. It seethed through the not-earth of Chaos, eager to obey her command. Yet also it called her to more, to greater strength and wilder destruction, to the unbridled release of power that would make her and it one.
Randor placed his boot on Marmak's chest and pressed down, crushing the lizard flat against the ground. With the tip of his sword he flicked the remaining boomerangs out of reach, electricity snapping each time his blade touched them.
A hunger for blood buzzed through the living presences of the surrounding crowd. Randor grimaced and massaged his temples with his free hand, mustering strength to push back the storm. A tower rose in his mind, a slender pearlescent spire of ineffable beauty, swaying gently amid the thunder and wind.
When his opponent spat at him, he started and stared at the lizard as if it were the first time he had seen him. The tower in his mind shimmered as he lowered the sword, letting the tip drag the sand.
The Force shrieked at him. With a snap of purple light and a thunderous crack, the tower shattered and the storm tightened. The taste of blood filled his mouth as Randor whipped his blade up to his face, nearly touching his nose, and then plunged the point at the centre of Marmak's chest.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Mar 20, 2018 3:02:02 GMT
The point sliced straight into Marmak and stopped only at the sand beneath him. He could not breath. He no longer heard the voices of the crowd, but only saw the face of his young opponent. A fury built around the lesion in his chest. His body was broken, but suddenly he felt a channel of the force rush through him as he had never felt before. His restrains fell away. He unleashed a push up at Randor to knock him as high as the stadium.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Mar 21, 2018 5:36:50 GMT
Randor instinctively tightened his grip on his sword. The Force push tore the blade free of Marmak's chest. Randor spun backwards, turning a full circle in the air, and landed facedown on his chest with a crash of armour and snap of bone. His damaged shoulder pauldron broke free and skittered away. Randor pushed to all fours, still gripping his sword with one hand. He spat blood and sand, staggered upright and lurched towards his opponent.
(( Leilani Sunblade : I recognise that there's not actually much to respond to in my former post, so I'll add this here: )) Valene stalked the lich, feeling the ground with each foot before placing her weight on it. The green light imbuing the lich's forms brightened with each step, though they still stood loosely, not even watching their captives—though then again, their lack of eyes might also hint at such. Perhaps they sensed through the Dark. She circled the group, hoping to put herself between them and the Mouth, prevent them from—if worst came to worst—abandoning their captives to a horror even Imarien, dedicated to destroying the Dark wherever it arose, only spoke of in whispers. Swallowed by the Mouth. It was said that you could not hear, either, or smell or feel or taste. As if you became—bodiless, incorporeal, a drowning spirit in the eternal night. The two lich nearest her lurched forwards, tracing her path on an angle that would cut her off from the Mouth. Valene halted, biting her lip against sharp words. The lich also halted, but they did not retreat. She stepped forward. So did they. Valene abandoned the idea of taking the critical ground by the Mouth. Fighting the lich rearguard earlier had convinced her that she did not especially want to lock herself into battle with two near-invulnerable opponents, especially not without the Force. She reached for the Force again and found nothing but an overwhelming sense of torment, which she quickly repressed once more. The ground shook beneath her feet, nearly throwing her to the ground. Valene crouched and scanned the area. On the opposite side of the Mouth, the earth cracked and tore and spilled into the black pit. Ver had vanished, though plenty of cover was available. The lich flashed to life. A full ten peeled away from the captives and converged on a pile of not-rocks. They covered ground at an eerie speed for their footsteps, as if their bodies had lost synchronisation with space. The two who had moved to cut Valene off retreated to the captives, and they and the three other lich remaining spaced themselves evenly in a ring, their postures hardening. "Ver, they're on you!" Valene shouted. She dashed past the band, taking the contested ground between the lich and the Mouth. Five left. Not great odds, but better. She doubted they would improve any further unless she took a hand in it. She twirled her wrist, making her lightsaber sing, and approached the lich. |
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Mar 31, 2018 18:27:45 GMT
Marmak sprawled on his belly. His blood smoked as it touched the sand. It stank. As his foe approached, Marmak harnessed the same energy he had felt before. With all the physical strength he had left, he raised one hand and sent a whirlwind of sand at Randor.
---
Pegnog watched from his seat with a smirk. The battle was going well. This was what people paid to see. But he viewed battles the same way he did food: it was a performance. And no performance could be complete without a surprise that turns fascination into awe.
Pegnog stretched over his lumpy belly and took hold of the intercom. "Release the beast!"
---
Marmak let go of the whirlwind and looked up. Chains chunked. A gate rose. Nostrils snorted.
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on May 8, 2018 1:35:11 GMT
The Dark Force exulted under Ver's manipulation. It seethed through the not-earth of Chaos, eager to obey her command. Yet also it called her to more, to greater strength and wilder destruction, to the unbridled release of power that would make her and it one. (( Leilani Sunblade : I recognise that there's not actually much to respond to in my former post, so I'll add this here: )) Valene stalked the lich, feeling the ground with each foot before placing her weight on it. The green light imbuing the lich's forms brightened with each step, though they still stood loosely, not even watching their captives—though then again, their lack of eyes might also hint at such. Perhaps they sensed through the Dark. She circled the group, hoping to put herself between them and the Mouth, prevent them from—if worst came to worst—abandoning their captives to a horror even Imarien, dedicated to destroying the Dark wherever it arose, only spoke of in whispers. Swallowed by the Mouth. It was said that you could not hear, either, or smell or feel or taste. As if you became—bodiless, incorporeal, a drowning spirit in the eternal night. The two lich nearest her lurched forwards, tracing her path on an angle that would cut her off from the Mouth. Valene halted, biting her lip against sharp words. The lich also halted, but they did not retreat. She stepped forward. So did they. Valene abandoned the idea of taking the critical ground by the Mouth. Fighting the lich rearguard earlier had convinced her that she did not especially want to lock herself into battle with two near-invulnerable opponents, especially not without the Force. She reached for the Force again and found nothing but an overwhelming sense of torment, which she quickly repressed once more. The ground shook beneath her feet, nearly throwing her to the ground. Valene crouched and scanned the area. On the opposite side of the Mouth, the earth cracked and tore and spilled into the black pit. Ver had vanished, though plenty of cover was available. The lich flashed to life. A full ten peeled away from the captives and converged on a pile of not-rocks. They covered ground at an eerie speed for their footsteps, as if their bodies had lost synchronisation with space. The two who had moved to cut Valene off retreated to the captives, and they and the three other lich remaining spaced themselves evenly in a ring, their postures hardening. "Ver, they're on you!" Valene shouted. She dashed past the band, taking the contested ground between the lich and the Mouth. Five left. Not great odds, but better. She doubted they would improve any further unless she took a hand in it. She twirled her wrist, making her lightsaber sing, and approached the lich. ((Ah, at last I have sufficient time and brainpower to write a decent reply . . . just as you head back to school. Oh well.)) Ver felt the ground shake, watched it crumble into the Mouth. Good. But not enough. She knew instinctively that she couldn't fill the Mouth, even as the Dark Force called to her to try— to give into its pull, to shatter the entire landscape and pour it all into that gaping hole of darkness. That wouldn't work. She needed to cover up the Mouth, and that required control. Restraint. The ground couldn't just crumble and fall; she had to bring the two halves of the pit together somehow . . . "Ver, they're on you!" Valene's call broke Ver's train of thought. Ver looked up, saw the approaching lich. Blast it, not again! Then again, she should've expected no less. I barely managed one earlier. How do I fight five when they can't be touched by the Force? Augmenting her own speed and strength only went so far. Then again . . . The dark Force tugged at her, surging, ready to be used. She hadn't been touching this kind of power when she'd fought the lich earlier. Ver recalled Dae's account of Mandalore, of the Sith who nearly killed her, who Force-weilded whirling blades rather than a saber. Master Lin always did say we should learn from our enemies . . . She had no blades, of course, but she had something that might be nearly as deadly. Drawing more deeply on the dark Force, Ver once again shook and shattered the ground beneath the liches' feet. From it she tore a dozen jagged chunks of black stone, molded by the power she weilded, edges and points as sharp as knives. Then, with a fierce glare, she sent the stone whirling through the crowd of lich and back again. |
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Jan 7, 2019 9:53:07 GMT
((Leilani, Warrior, I am really, really sorry. I've known for months that it was my turn here and I haven't done anything about it. (Four months, Warrior? You've got nothing on me.) Would either of you like to keep going again where we left off? I will put it in my calendar as a regular thing if so.))
Randor roared as the sands tore at his face, turning the world dark around him. He covered his face with a forearm and plunged deeper into the storm, nostrils filled with the scent of prey.
Without warning the whirlwind ceased. Sand spurted in all directions. Randor stumbled to a stop at the side of his foe, slammed his booted heel down into the lizard's bleeding chest and raised his sword high for the mortal blow.
Ver's razor-bladed stones shredded the lich. Viscous green gobs spattered the torn-up landscape.
The five lich guarding the Imarien flared from green to a murky brownish yellow under their translucent black membrane. Spikes erupted from their shoulders and backs. A spiny crest like a crown rose in a ring on their heads. Slowly, like stone grinding upon stone, three of the yellow lich separated from the guard circle. The one in the middle stalked Ver, while the other two circled the shredded lich remains with aberrant speed and converged on Ver from both sides.
The Dark Force sang on the bladelike edges of Ver's moulded black shards, a weird and perfect note.
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Jan 9, 2019 1:22:54 GMT
((Leilani, Warrior, I am really, really sorry. I've known for months that it was my turn here and I haven't done anything about it. (Four months, Warrior? You've got nothing on me.) Would either of you like to keep going again where we left off? I will put it in my calendar as a regular thing if so.)) Ver's razor-bladed stones shredded the lich. Viscous green gobs spattered the torn-up landscape. The five lich guarding the Imarien flared from green to a murky brownish yellow under their translucent black membrane. Spikes erupted from their shoulders and backs. A spiny crest like a crown rose in a ring on their heads. Slowly, like stone grinding upon stone, three of the yellow lich separated from the guard circle. The one in the middle stalked Ver, while the other two circled the shredded lich remains with aberrant speed and converged on Ver from both sides. The Dark Force sang on the bladelike edges of Ver's moulded black shards, a weird and perfect note. ((You're fine! I honestly thought that I'd just taken too long to respond and that you weren't interested in the plot anymore. I am 100% down to continue!)) Ten foes fallen, just like that.
Ver's pulse quickened, and her very blood seemed to hum to the tune of the Dark Force's melody. If only I'd had this earlier. How many people would still be alive?
No time to think about it now. More lich approached, faster now. They'd changed. Had the death of their companions made them stronger?
Only one way to find out. The hint of a fierce smile appeared on Ver's face. With a thought, she split each shard into two even sharper ones. Then she split her deadly fleet into three, sending a portion of the stone shards whirling towards each lich.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Jan 15, 2019 8:41:55 GMT
((Awesome! I've just been on camp this past week but should be good to continue now. 1–3 times a week is the frequency I'm going for, depending of course on work or study pressures, yours or mine. I still have a lot of my planning for this plot, so if anything it should be more developed than it would have been eight months ago.))
The lich's humanoid figures stretched to flat featureless planes of yellow-lit blackness just before Ver's volleys reached them. The shards ripped through the dark membrane, but the lich snapped back to humanoid figures once the shards had passed. The three continued to close the distance, seemingly unruffled by Ver's attack.
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Post by Warrior of Aror on Jan 18, 2019 15:25:12 GMT
((I'm still up for it! No worries.))
Marmak writhed under his opponent's boot. He squinted and snarled at the blade. The earth thumped beneath him. His attention was turned away from his imminent death to a beast's screech - like twisting metal - that echoed about the arena and drowned out the roaring and hooting crowds.
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Jan 19, 2019 3:10:44 GMT
((Awesome! I've just been on camp this past week but should be good to continue now. 1–3 times a week is the frequency I'm going for, depending of course on work or study pressures, yours or mine. I still have a lot of my planning for this plot, so if anything it should be more developed than it would have been eight months ago.)) The lich's humanoid figures stretched to flat featureless planes of yellow-lit blackness just before Ver's volleys reached them. The shards ripped through the dark membrane, but the lich snapped back to humanoid figures once the shards had passed. The three continued to close the distance, seemingly unruffled by Ver's attack. ((Cool beans. 1-3 times a week sounds reasonable.))
Blast it. Ver released a hiss of annoyance. Whether or not they were stronger was still debatable, but harder to kill? Certainly. Time for a new tactic. She knelt again, pressing her hands to the black dirt and drawing more on the Force within. Then, focusing on the ground beneath the nearest of the liches, she sent her command. The ground around and beneath the lich erupted, tall stones bursting forth from the earth and closing together to crush or trap the dark being — Ver didn't care which, she told herself firmly that she didn't; though the darkness of the Force drew her desires towards the kill.
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I hope to be more on top of things really soon.))