Agnaran's Agony RP

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While Illorun was not Dentarg's chosen deity, he had to respect the Ice Maiden's candor, for he knew all too well of the wrath of a god someone has failed. not from personal experience mind you, but being a cleric of a Deity himself, such things are often witnessed.

"Pain, a powerful tool and weapon, he who learns to not to fear it, is a formidible force, capable of almost anything" Dentarg thought to himself, as he continued on the trail, lest her incurr the wrath of an Ice Maiden, and reminiscening about his own trainings and childhood.

 

The loss of a finger would likely cause the man pain in cold weather and old age. An everlasting reminder of Ice. Alixnan strolled up to the wagon and picked up the severed digit. Examining it he saw it to be a very clean cut, avoiding the knuckle just enough. He clenched his hand around the finger, a brief and small flash followed and his hand held nothing but a small pile of ash, which he scatted to the wind. He saw the wagon driver was watching him with fearful eyes.
"Be glade I am not like some others you are likely to meet, who would have kept that finger for...unpleasant uses." He said as he moved on.

 

"the loss of finger is not that big of a deal, i've known people who've fought with only one hand, or even one arm" commented Dentarg.

 

With a shake, Sestrum went to the wagon and knelt by the trapped wheel. "Either we lift this by brute force, or we use a wooden plank to lever it out." As he gave looks to two other 'recruits' to help him, he turned his thoughts to the driver's current impairment. Ice Maidens, nay any stubborn commanders, forget to see the long road of their actions; with a new hand injury, the driver would take more time to rein the horses and have more difficulty controlling the wagon which will result in slower traveling and more punishments. A lashing would have served as well without curtailing the driver's ability to handle cattle.

This campaign would be lost on lack of foresight.

 

knowing Sestrum to be right, Dentarg put down his hammers and requested a rope, which he tied to the front of the wagon, while a plank was placed at the back of the wagon to act as a lever.

"PUSH!!!" He commanded, digging his feet into the ground at gripping the rope tight.

 

Dawkens joined in. As Dentarg shouted he pushed with his powerful legs. At first time took a second for his books to find grip but they did and he felt the wagon budge. The muscles in his legs burned but the wagon was moving.

 

With the wagon unstuck, they could now continue on their way, though some of those involved in freeing up the wagon felt it was prehaps an easily avoidance situation, and prehaps shouldn't have even happened.

"we had best hurry, or there'll be no city left to save" Dentarg said while working his right arm around its socket.

 

As the relief force moved to the north and east, the marshland became increasingly swampy, a sign that Utavas was getting closer. The wagon drivers began to slow, wary of events earlier today. As night began to creep across the sky, the swamps gave way to razed farmlands. Rusknar was waiting at the edge of the swamps, surrounded by the allies he was suppose to have brought. Rusknar was surrounded by a pack of winter wolves, intelligent beasts similar in size as horses. A impressive winter wolf flanked Rusknar, the wolf was over 14 feet from tip to tail, like an ogre among men and clearly the alpha.

Herna, who seemingly had disappeared for some time following her interaction with the lead wagon driver, appeared this time dressed in her priestly formal wear, a long white robe, trimmed in black that covered her chainmail and a hood which she let fall on her back. Iselda was in stride as Herna approached Rusknar.

"Very good. Instruct the winter wolves that they will flank us on either side as we enter the citadel."

Herna then turned to Iselda, "Instruct the conscripts as to their role while we enter the city."

Iselda nodded and headed back from the front of the relief train, while Herna turned to the leader of the Warrior Maidens, "Instruct your women to form a rear guard and a front guard. It will be on your spears that we break through into the city."

* * *

Iselda stood in front of the column of conscripts and cleared her throat before beginning to speak.

"We shall be forcing our way into the city any moment now. I shall instruct you on how to behave during the charge. I expect none of you to try and act as warriors for you are to reinforce the city, not die along the way. The real warriors shall ensure our passage into the city. Do not get isolated from the train for the gates cannot be open long. Those of you who are trapped outside the city walls will perish at the hands of the undead. Now, shields up and weapons ready. Your lives are in your own hands, neither myself or my sisters will be willing to help you through this."

Iselda turned and walked to the left side of the wagon train. Shortly after that, you hear a woman's voice, likely the leader of the Warrior Maidens, shout a battle cry, followed by the thunder of the horses' hooves of the front guard. The race to the city had begun and the reaction of the undead would soon follow.

 

Alixnan ran next to one of the supply wagons as they approached the besieged city, wishing he had a horse. It was difficult to run through the mud and muck of the road which was not good in a time where speed was of the essence. He looked up and got his first look at the opposing army.

...It was large, huge even. The city walls showed signs of both siege equipment and magical damage. He saw the front lines of the relief force smash into the unprepared back of the undead forces and begin it's push towards the city gates.
Alixnan ran faster.

 

"and so it begins!" Dentarg cried. "let battle be joined!"

Dentarg slammed his hammer on the ground, and dropped to one knee behind it.

"Borgerix, grant your servant strength in battle, that he might send these foul spawns back to the grave in your name!"

He rose to his feet, tilted his head back and recieved his boon from the god.

 

Dawkens muttered a quick prayer more out of habit then belief and rushed towards the open gate. He was allowing the barbarian bloodlust to take over. He snaapped his hood back from covering his eyes and drew his two handed sword from across his back. A slight smile appeared on his face as he entered the fray.

 

A rumble, like distant thunder, fell upon the undead that stood before the gatehouse to the city of Utavas, far enough from the walls to stay out of the range of the militia crossbow men. The skeletons, on command, broke to the sound, hoping to intercept what was coming there way. The initial wave of skeletons stood little chance against the charging Warrior Maidens and their warhorses, crushed beneath hoof and shattered by spear. Those that survived the assault, soon found themselves overrun by the wagons following behind the Warrior Maidens.

Bells began ringing, the warning bells of the city, alerting the city guards of the incoming relief and the aid that would be needed for the relief force to make it into the city. Horns also began to sound, though these emanated from the undead forces, alerting the intelligent undead of the situation at hand.

The route to Utavas began to writhe with undead bent on the destruction of the living before them. Ghouls eagerly rushed forth hoping to sate their hunger on the Warrior Maidens bearing down on them. Wights, amidst skeletons came in at the flanks, hoping to take advantage of slamming into the enemy's flank.

* * *

A particularly nasty horror lurked amongst the undead ranks, pretending to be a skeleton, which it mostly resembled. Few Utavas would have remembered this creature's name, but centuries before, this twisted creature had preyed upon the poor of Utavas as a deranged murderer and took great pleasure in the pain it inflicted on others. It should have come as no surprise to this creature that, upon its death, it awoke to its state of undeath. With it's terrible strength, it ripped Warrior Maidens from their horses, paralyzing them with a strike of its tongue, before killing them and moving on to its next target, deeper within the relief forces.

 

Firing of blasts of Eldrich power at the undead that came to close to the caravan and running while doing so was a lot harder then Alixnan first thought it would be. So much to that a ghoul that slipped passed the outer line nearly gutted him. A blast of crackling power into it's face ended the immediate threat and the Tiefling was back up and running.

They were almost halfway through the army.

 

Osrik hid in one of the wagons, climbing in just as the mayhem had begun. Cursed bloody women the dwarf thought, damnable wenches couldn't think up anything better then a blasted charge through the undead. This was not the way he wanted to die. For him death was to come to him as an old man, after he had lived a desirable life, with brats he never had to raise and money he never earned through hard work, intelligent work was preferable.

Under a bundle of food stuffs, Osrik peered out from the wagon, taking care to conceal himself. So much for keeping the undead out of the middle of the relief column, a skeleton with a nasty tongue had almost single handedly broken through the front guard and was now killing as it saw fit. Where is that blasted hero Osrik thought, Lotta good having him around is when he cant be found! I miss the days when all I had to worry about was disarming traps and taking an axe to a goblin or two, Osrik frowned as he thought, I wonder if they still got whores in the city... that might me forget about this all for at least a night... Osrik's mind, along with his heart, momentarily stopped as a wight, countenance distorted by hatred, passed with a foot of the dwarf. A spear came ripping through the wight's face, cold energy showered about in the aftermath of the strike. Iselda was enveloped in divine energy.

"Get out of the wagon now. I can see your pitiful little life force and it's no weaker then it usually is."

Iselda's sentence was punctuated at the end by a sharp cry as that wicked skeleton slammed it's bony fists into her back and the tubes on the palm of its hands, similar to its tongue, caught on to her, keeping her from falling. Osrik maintained his hiding place with no intention of leaving its relative safety.

 

Seeing the young Ice Maiden in trouble, Dawkens swung around and lashed his sword out at the strange fiend hoping to draw it's attention to him instead of killing the girl. He knew that with undead the clerics were vital. His sword bit but it didn't inflict much damage. All the you elf could do was hope it gave Iselda a second to free herself.

 

The creature's head swung around, it's foul tongue poised about a foot in front of its face as if ready to strike. The undead monster threw Iselda several feet to the direction in front of him and turned the rest of its body to face Dawkins.

A strangled and hoarse voice issued forth from it's mouth, dripping with hate, "I shall rip the life from your bones."

With terrifying quickness, the creature was upon Dawkens, striking the warrior with it's powerful fists. The horrible tube like appendages on the monster's hands latched onto Dawkens and lifted him off the ground.

"Your body shall serve me after your death."

The undead creature began to tighten it's powerful hands around Dawkens body with the obvious intent of crushing the life out him. However, the creature was never able to finish this intent as a massive body of white fur came slamming into th undead creature. The force in which the winter wolf's jaws, the alpha winter wolf, sent the undead monster slamming into the ground freed up Dawkens. As the wolf loomed over the downed skeletal monster, the undead foe lashed out with it's horrible tongue, but the wolf, as if expecting such an attack, caught hold of the tongue about a foot below its end and tore it off. The wolf followed up by delivering a blast of its frigid breath into the upper body of its undead foe.

Iselda worked her way back to her feet, still shaken, but thankful she has been thrown outside of the path of the oncoming wagons. Her breath was short and painful, she instantly knew she had broken ribs and with the difficulty her came with each breath was wondering if her right lung had been injured as well. Regardless if her pain, she labored over to Dawkens. As Iselda offered help, she looked in the opposite direction of Dawkens.

"Don't think I'm giving this help for your sake... I owe you a debt for what you did, that's all. Let this magic bolster your health so you won't feel your wounds. When we get into the city I'll make sure someone with proper healing magic takes a look at you."

 

"Back to the grave with you!!" Dentarg cried as his hammer came crashing down upon yet another skeleton's head.

Having dealt with his immidiate opponent, Dentarg let fly a mighty cry as he evoked the powerful clerical ability of Turning Undead creatures. His body radiated with an odd glow, as the weakest Undead creatures were simply obliterated, Dentarg continued to pound hammer against the bones of those who withstood the blast of holy energy emminating from him.

 

Undead fell by before the might of the cleric's power, yet still they came on. Unless the Priestess acted soon it was unlikely they would make it through the shear mass of enemies arrayed before them.

Why did I come on this campaign? I deal with Demons, not Undead. Alixnan thought to himself. Still, at least I can let lose here

He stopped running and raised his hand towards the nearest opponent, a luckless ghoul.
Alixnan smiled as he blew it to pieces then turned to the next target, a skeleton that had survived the hulking half-orc cleric's attack. The Half-orc appeard to be the one that had been siting at the same fire as himself before.

 

Dawkens felt lucky and afraid. He had definitely been out of league. "Where is a simple skeleton when I need one?" he muttered to himself.

The spell that the young Ice Maiden had cast helped, but Dawkens could not shake the images of what almost happened to him.

Walking away he found himself putting his blade into the rotten flesh of a ghoul. He'd stick to fighting the mindless rabble for now.

 

"Unholy creatures! all that awaits you is a purgatory of eternal suffering!!" Dentarg cried out, as he continued to pound away with his hammers at those who survive the onsluaght of his holy energy.

"Where is the foul spawn who commands these things? we must end it's existance, I grow tired of fighting these weaklings" Dentarg said, as a skeleton managed to stab him in the upper arm, just as he shattered it's skull.