|City of IF
Free online storygaming
Joined: 10 May 2004
Location: Sneaking Idearium into your beverages.
|Posted: Mon Jul 02, 2007 10:03 pm Post subject:
|And so it was decided by six people that the armada of evil would take the town. And so it did fall to the DM, named IM, to throw in a D20. And the armada did fail it's spot check against ambushes...poorly.
Warning: Violence, swearing, crude sexual references, and general nastiness abound in this chapter! If you are squeamish, dislike such things, or under the mental maturity needed to read this chapter, click the back button now!
Chapter Six - To relive your past...
The man, known by some as Master, other as Unholy Blight Upon These Lands, and some as Death Itself, walked to the north where the dragons had denned last night. Before he even got to the caves, a dragon landed in front of him. It's scales were black as a starless and moonless night, which was a rare occurrence, seeing as there were two moons and at least five thousand stars in the night sky. The scales on it's underbelly started as a rich yellow near its maw, but deepened to a dark orange long before they reached its stomach, and kept deepening until one couldn't bear to look. Its claws and teeth were slightly blood-stained, which indicated he might be minus a few troops in his army. More, if the whole pack had fed. "Why, my Lord, what is the matter that you come to us so early in the morning?"
He hated these creatures. They were always so uppity. And they knew of his...condition. "Veks. Trouble."
"Ah, but couldn't you do it on your own? Why do you need us?"
Once again, these things were so haughty and full of themselves, which was befitting them...considering. "Solymr. Dragons. Magi."
The dragon pondered a moment. "Very well. I shall rouse my thirty brethren, and we shall aid you in your spell-weaving."
Thus saying so, the dragon lifted off and left a wake of darkness behind him, covering his trails and leaving the man alone to prepare his teleportation spell.
The medusa queen's matriarch was making a strong point about taking the town to the south. "We ssssshould do what will pleasssssse Massssster!" she hissed while glaring at the infernal troglodyte swarm-leader. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the troglodyte was blind, and so her gaze had no effect on him. The harpy hag High Mistress was not so fortunate, and had smashed into tiny little pieces of gravel on the way over. When a being with golden coils and snakes for hair glares at you, you should stop anyways.
The troglodyte chattered and waved his spear around. Realizing that his opinion wouldn't matter if nobody could hear it, the army General cast a small spell that his Master had left him. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that please?"
"I said," the troglodyte's voice said in barely human tones underlaid with much clicking, "That what pleases Master varies a lot. Can't we do all three?"
The green-and-red striped mini-minions had never displayed much intelligence, but were valued for their digging capacity. That, and their sheer numbers.
The minotaur king patriarch grunted and scraped the ground with one hoof. "Idiot," the patriarch said, "How can we enslave the populace and kill them all?"
The broad-chested half-bull half-men were usually the dumb muscle, but agreed that their leader should be the smartest of them all. That wasn't saying much, but at least he grasped the concept of one minus two did not compute.
"Simple, really," the scorpicor's leader said while grooming his red fur and checking his bat-like wings. "We enslave them first, and when Master has tired of them, we kill them for him."
The scorpicor's opinion would carry a lot of weight. Then again, when you're dealing with a lion that has the wings of a bat and the tail of a scorpion, both of them fully functional, you tend to listen to whatever he says.
The evil eye's High Beamer crafted a picture in the air with it's innate magic. It was a picture of a town, then it shifted, showing Master's influence as red waves of blood radiating out of that town.
The evil eye had a point. Then again, seeing as it was mostly brain, with tentacles to hold it up, and eyeballs used primarily as aiming devices, it had plenty of time to think, and lots of material to do it with.
The General held up his sword again. "Gentlemen, and lady, I have reached a verdict. We will take the town to provide Master a return point. We will paint the walls with blood, using their entrails as our paintbrushes! We ride to the town now!"
The army cheered to the rapid thunder.
There were two things the man hated about teleporation spells. One was that he had to say his name to complete the spell.
He often thought he had forgotten his name. Most nights he would go weeks without remembering his name. But then, ever so teasingly, the dark lords allowed his name to surface. He would drive himself madder wondering why he had a name. One time, he decided to write it down. After he forgot his name, but picked up the parchment, he drove himself even madder wondering what that word meant. Then, when he remembered again, he carefully wrote down 'This is your name' underneath it on that same scrap of parchment. And since then, it had worked. He didn't know why, but he felt as though he had managed to steal something away from those dark lords and keep it for himself. Some integral part of his being had been recovered. Though, when he thought about it, not all things have a name. So his shouldn't matter that much.
The man climbed upon the back of a dragon, and then the thirty-one dragons lifted off and flew in a circle high above the Cross-Wastelands. This gave the man time to think more about his name.
These days, it was sheer vanity. He didn't want anyone to know that the nameless, faceless, sheer terror that stalked their lands, burning and killing indiscriminately actually had a name, and thus was not nameless. The dragons knew his name, though. They had promised not to share it with anybody in his camp, because the value of a named, faceless, sheer terror was much less than that of a nameless one. They saw that.
"Deemer," he whispered.
The power from the pent-up spell was released in that instant, connecting the dragons with blue-white energy that swirled around, engulfed them all, and caused them to vanish off the face of their world.
The army was passing through a narrow pass, the General mingling with his kin, when a harpy hag scout was found on the ground. "Hold!" the General commanded.
The other minotaurs went with him and wondered at the harpy as well. "Is she sleeping?" one wondered.
The General grabbed the scout by the shoulder and turned her over. Three arrows, one with blue, one with green, and one with red feathers protruded from her chest. All were clustered near her heart, which had spilled dark red blood on the ground under her. It had been prevented from spilling any further onto the ground by the indentation she made when she impacted. The General noted that the blood was still flowing freely and had not yet congealed in the pool, which meant...
Bows! And only expertly trained marksmen could cluster their arrows so expertly! "Ware! We are surrounded by elven forces!"
The army quickly got into their positions, though a few dozen evil eyes and medusa queens had fallen because of the expertly-laid ambush. The General began giving orders. "Evil eyes, see if you can find these blasted elves. Harpies, you'll be needed for quick strike-and-return once they are found. Minotaurs, I want you using your axes as shields to protect them both from incoming fire, and medusas, if they're within sight, glare at them. If not, then try a volley or three. Scorpicors and troglodytes, I want you in reserve in case something unforeseen happens."
As soon as those words were uttered, a man appeared out of thin air about five hundred feet distant from the army. He raised his hands to the sky, and it turned stormy, the skies churning with electricity and black stormclouds. He pointed at the ground near the army, and it began to buckle and heave, red, orange and yellow cracks appearing.
"Like that. Trogs, you go ahead and rush him, scorps, I want you behind him so that while he's dealing with the Trogs, you can poison him. We want this one alive."
Then the man flung up his hands, and a shimmering portal appeared behind him as a rip in the fabric of reality. About a hundred crusaders in golden armor and champions on their noble steeds charged out of the portal directly at the army of evil with a savage war cry. The General grinned.
"Oh, this will be fun. I do believe I'll have enough blood for a few baths tonight. More, if I can find a way to stop it congealing."
This was the second thing Deemer hated about teleportation spells.
While you were in the grip of one, it made you relive your life choices that put you on the path you were on.
He never could remember half the things he had been shown.
"Do you, Deemer, agree to take up the mantle of Hero for our small town of Chillwater?"
"Do you swear to do all you can to bring fame, glory, and honor to the town?"
"I so swear."
"Then rise Deemer, Hero of Chillwater!"
No...no...too far back...
"M'Lord! A gold dragon approaches!"
The frantic scurrying to prepare for the dragon...followed by a conversation with the dragon himself.
"Why is it that you take and plunder from this valley as though you owned it?"
Showing him the town's desolate state...telling him the plans to make it so much better...
"Very well. I shall aid you, for a time. I am named Christhankoraner, but you may call me Chris."
"Hero, we have found a new spell, one that shall allow you to cross vast distances in a single bound. It is known as Dimension Door, and we shall show you."
The vanishing of the mage, only to have him reappear five miles down the road as though he had barely walked a step...his first time using the spell...the dark feeling of something whispering 'You're mine' before a sharp jabbing feeling in his neck...
"Chris, we wanted to unveil this in front of you today."
The tarp dropping as a cave perfect for dragon habitation was finished in their small town...then...
"Why would you build this structure, then imprison the dragons that come here? Should they not live here in peace and harmony?"
"But Chris, we need their strength! The world is too vast to conquer without an army of more power!"
"You are not the Deemer I knew. Your obsession is too great. I take my leave."
The take-off of Chris as he left Deemer's army...
"Damnit...Chris...why can't you understand? I swore I would do everything..."
The discovery of the School for Magi nearby...the fevered studies to turn himself into a channel for power...for ultimate power...
Ahh...these were more to his liking.
The searching for the Oracle who dwelt in the middle of the Cross-Wastelands, atop a high peak...the question...the payment...
"How can I achieve ultimate power in this world so that I may conquer it for the glory of Chillwater?"
"You wish to know? Then you shall pay me."
"Blood. Gold. Or...I accept voices as well."
"Take my voice, if it pleases you."
"Oh, but it will."
The wrenching feeling of his voice being stolen from his throat...
"The way to ultimate power lies in an item found on another plane of existence. You've been there once before, when you Dimension Doored the first time. Pause your spell halfway through, then search the shadows for a glowing green stone. Once you have found it, then the power to conquer the world will be yours. Of course, as to how you are going to get there now that you have no voice to cast spells is anyone's guess..."
The feel of the sword in his hand...the blood spilling down the Oracle's throat...a wisp-like voice escaping...the capture and insertion of the voice into his own throat doing nothing for him...
The path of evil was quite refreshing after all that goodness.
Deemer surprised himself by uttering a word after so long. He looked down at the one he had killed and noticed that it seemed familiar...but when had he ever been friends with a gold dragon?
And now, for the one he loved most of all...
Deemer stormed into the mayor's office of Chillwater, drew his sword, and smote the mayor's head off his shoulders. He pointed it at the two guards in the room while picking up a crown and placing it on his own head. "Objections?"
The guards bowed before their new Liege. Shortly thereafter, the town was renamed Veks, for it was easier to say.
And that should be it...
"We come from the darkness, we were born of shadows, we are meant to tear light into shreds. We offer our services to you."
"Begone! I want no foul beings of shadows in my army!"
"Foul? Why do you say that?"
"You were sealed away by the Event that happened ten thousand and some years ago, you should not be here!"
"You fool...The Event of which you speak, has it not gotten harder to scry on outlying worlds since then?"
"That is because you were sealed away with us!"
But by the time Deemer had contemplated the implications of that statement, the spell's energies had ebbed, and the darkness dragons, along with Deemer, were deposited just outside of Veks' city walls.
"This guy is really starting to piss me off," the General said.
The man of which he spoke of so poorly was the one that had opened up the shimmering portal. The army had killed or captured everyone else, mainly because they wanted to have fun remembering the battle, and what better way to do that than to torment your prisoners? Especially when they considered you vile abominations. Occasionally they screamed louder than the harpies.
The man had summoned up a few hundred elementals and kept replacing them when the army destroyed them.
"Time to see what my sword can do against an elementalist."
The General hefted his sword and pointed it at the elementalist in question. In a few seconds, there was a reaction. A bolt of lightning cascaded down from the heavens and created a crater. The elementalist was thrown back a good hundred feet at least.
With their summoner in distraction, the elementals lost all cohesion and returned to the earth and water from which they had been summoned. The general sheathed his sword and breathed deeply. He had just won his first battle without his Lord. "Harpies, find that man, wherever he may be, and bring him back in the condition you find him in."
The harpies flew out in a great swarm of filthy feathers across the landscape, searching for the man. The General wondered how far they would get before they picked up just any man.
The General then looked about the battlefield. "Leave our dead. Take the humans and elves along as food supplies and toys."
The prisoners were lead off in chains, while the corpses were loaded onto anyone that could hold them.
Deemer had landed outside his hometown and requested information for Solymr from the second man to come to the parapets. The first was resting firmly inside a dragon's stomach, dying a slow death of asphyxiation, to be followed by digestion.
"From what our-"
The man was blasted into the nearest wall. The third man tried to pick up the thread from where it had been left off.
He was flung out a window and torn in two by two competing dragons. The fourth fellow, smarter than his previous two predecessors, tried to follow along.
"Your mages here have found that a small force of golden dragons and arch-mages have gathered in two spots that are a day's ride from each other and your throne. Solymr is masking his presence so well that they have not yet found which group he leads."
Deemer got his thoughts aligned, trying to cut through the sheer, thick fog that obscured his mind that the dark lords imposed upon him...
"There it is, the town of Greensbough. Not much, is it?"
The General was with his army's respective leaders again. He had taken a short break before calling this meeting, seeing as he couldn't get the sword to let go of his hand, so now he walked around looking either really menacing and causing random thunderbolts to strike, or like he was constantly posing for a female that was nowhere to be found. Not one that would be compatible with him, anyways. There was also some slight swelling going on, making his hand uncomfortably large, sore, and red.
The harpies had managed to pick up the elementalist and stick him in a secure anti-magic prison. He would be for the Master to toy with. While they were out scouting, they had picked up a few members of the guard of Greensbough and extracted information, along with entrails for the dinner table, from them.
"Apparently," the commander went on, "When they see a large strikeforce or army like ourselves, they dump boiling tar into a channel in front of their castle. Serves as an impromptu moat. Their town defenders hail from a swamp that isn't on our maps yet, but which we shall shortly add. I've heard there's some really nasty beasts in there, with gazes to rival yours, matriarch, and poisons to beat yours, scorpicor. Supposedly there's not all that many left, and they don't ease up at night either. However, there's bound to be all sorts of ways into the town, so bounce a few ideas off of me, and we'll see what sort of strategy we can come up with."
For anybody willing to tell me the word count on that, I will give you a prize.
This took me two hours of evil thinking to come up with. And the details were really picky and fine-tuned.
So. Once again there are two questions.
How does the evil army take the town of Greensbough?
Which force will Deemer ride out to kill? Keeping in mind the one he doesn't kill will lay siege to the city the next day.
Oh, and fear not for the poor Harold and Lucy. Their quest will resume next week.
Joined: 05 Sep 2005
|Posted: Mon Jul 02, 2007 10:49 pm Post subject:
|2971, according to Microsoft Word.
I'm in a bit of a rush, but I'll think of some strategies, though settting fire to the boiling tar in the moat should obscure the attackers actions, whatever they are. :D
|Player of Fates
Joined: 27 Jun 2007
|Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2007 3:27 pm Post subject:
|By far, an interesting Story, IM. I love it. I don't have any suggestions right now but I'll return with at least tewo helpful and bloo-creative ones. :)
|tramp in a storm
Joined: 11 Apr 2005
Location: You never know...I could be in YOUR dust bin.
|Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2007 11:02 am Post subject:
|A really good chapter which you can tell you've spent a long time on it.
I think the harpies should fly over the tar and attack as many beasts as they can while the rest of the army charge in from a back way.
And the dude with the cool sword can go through the front way (maybe the harpies can drop him off) and maybe use the sword to atract most of the other army's attention to buy some time for our army to sneak round the back.
If that makes sence.... :D
|The White Blacksmith
Joined: 02 Apr 2006
|Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2007 12:44 pm Post subject:
|Good story! Remeniscent of GREED.
Clearly they use the wooden horse approach. For a day they camp outside the gates, sacrificing the sacrificable and generally seeming weak. They then 'surrender' and send in all the Medusas as hostages. The medusas, of course, have a special cloth where they can see out but it doesn't look like they can over their eyes.
|tramp in a storm
Joined: 11 Apr 2005
Location: You never know...I could be in YOUR dust bin.
|Posted: Mon Jul 16, 2007 4:58 am Post subject:
|lol!! Or they could pretend to be injured and looking for help. rofl You could just see them crawling towards the gates, pretending to be dying, begging for help! :lol: