Warhammer Fantasy IC Thread

[Pyrrhus the Molossian]

There were prikes from spears and arrows on his exposed body and many new scratches upon his gut plate. Skrag feel no pain lil ones! He bellows, gut giggling as he smashes another militiaman - leaving only a broken corpse behind. His body count in this quite place was growing.. Ever higher, as he grew ever stronger still. Skrag make you feel pain! He thundered around striking at his assailants, being careful to avoid hitting his human "allies", though they were more like meal tickets - they had to survive. He raged smashing his hammer left and right. Eventually charging the man he presumed to be the militias beacon, it's leader. The moving wall of muscle and fat surged forward with all the strength of an enraged elephant, his hammer slicked with blood and drool pouring from his maw in anticipation of the feast to come.

Skrag rushes forward to attack the leader of the militia, but his blind rush leaves enemies in his rear that have not yet decided they are beaten. A militiaman manages to sink his spear deep into the back of the ogre, but it doesn't seem to have hit any vital parts within the ogre. The rest of the battle rages on, with Khalid's men seeming to have the upper hand.

[Pericles of Athens]

The Ogre lets out a great howl and turns about - this time entirely consumed by a single minded hatred for the militiamen. He moves to stomp on the spearman at fault for his injury, and begins swinging his hammer in a wide arch once again to stave off their prickly attacks..

[Xion]

The Dark Elf nods and quickly checks his gear before mounting the horse alongside Seraphine.

"I guess introductions are in order at this point, Human. I am Mormeril, unless you already have a curse word for my people. Don't really care what you call me, I just want to get out of here alive."

"I am Seraphine." she says while sheathing her rapier. The vampire then mounts the horse after Mormeril, pausing for a moment to watch the combat between the dwarf and supposed vampire.

[The Mad Skylord]

Looking down at the dwarf with rage, Wolfe quickly comes back into control of his emotions. His horse had been stolen, and he had a long walk. He cleaned his blade of a peice of cloth before drsining the blood of a few corpses into his waterskin. He found drinking a dead man's blood revolting, but he needed to make it out of the desert alive. Slinging his waterskins over his shoulder and sheathing his blades, Wolfe sets out across the desert, heading in roughly the same direction as the ogre, or so the tracks said.

[Pyrrhus the Molossian]

The Ogre lets out a great howl and turns about - this time entirely consumed by a single minded hatred for the militiamen. He moves to stomp on the spearman at fault for his injury, and begins swinging his hammer in a wide arch once again to stave off their prickly attacks..

Skrag easily slaughters the man and then catches over four more with his hammer as he swings it. Khalid's men are extremely successful and one of them has managed to cut down the enemy leader. With his fall the remaining militia throw down their arms and beg for mercy in Ormazd's name. Khalid accepts the surrender and busies himself with taking control of the village. He also sends Skrag a messenger that tells him that he may do what he wishes with the bodies of the dead.

[Pyrrhus the Molossian]

Looking down at the dwarf with rage, Wolfe quickly comes back into control of his emotions. His horse had been stolen, and he had a long walk. He cleaned his blade of a peice of cloth before drsining the blood of a few corpses into his waterskin. He found drinking a dead man's blood revolting, but he needed to make it out of the desert alive. Slinging his waterskins over his shoulder and sheathing his blades, Wolfe sets out across the desert, heading in roughly the same direction as the ogre, or so the tracks said.

The sands of the desert are ever changing and within only an hour Wolfe has lost the trail of the large beast due to the moving sands filling in his tracks. There is only sand, heat, and more sand for Wolfe here.

[Bobington]

When the Dwarf wakes up, he takes off his hat and rips it apart into several pieces to stuff into his wound. He picks up his axe as well as both of his pistols, cleans and generally maintains them, and limps off across the shore. He watched the sun go to get his bearings, and decided to go the way that it would be easier to go North from. He decided to grab a plank and tie some bloody cloth around it as a sort of "flag" to carry so that those around him for a considerable distance, and to use it as support whilst walking. Death by dehydration was unacceptable for a Slayer, it must be in battle, or Grimnir would not be satisfied.

[Pyrrhus the Molossian]

OOC: One leg has been hamstrung, the other cut deeply, and your chest is mutilated. It's very unlikely you'll be simply marching along. You need a healer of some sort and heading straight into the desert in your condition is essentially suicide. Letting you know that before you commit. It's commonly known that the majority of the major Arabyan cities and towns are on the coast as well.

[Pyrrhus the Molossian]

When the Dwarf wakes up, he takes off his hat and rips it apart into several pieces to stuff into his wound. He picks up his axe as well as both of his pistols, cleans and generally maintains them, and limps off across the shore. He watched the sun go to get his bearings, and decided to go the way that it would be easier to go North from. He decided to grab a plank and tie some bloody cloth around it as a sort of "flag" to carry so that those around him for a considerable distance, and to use it as support whilst walking. Death by dehydration was unacceptable for a Slayer, it must be in battle, or Grimnir would not be satisfied.

Hours of painful limping in the sand brings a small coastal village into sight of Johnan...

[Bobington]

The Dwarf stumbles about. He knows a little Reikspiel and little Arabyan. He lurches forward and shouts in both tongues.

"Water, water!"

He would wave his little flag above his head hoping to be noticed in case he was not heard. He stuffed both pistols into a single pocket of his pants and covered it with what other things he had there to cover it. He would relax a little, slowing down his pace so that he would lose less energy, hoping that someone would come to him.

[Pericles of Athens]

The ogre piled the bodies up in the shade of a tree by a large pool of water. Skrag need bandage! He called to his humans, sighting the cuts and arrows lodged in his body - but most importantly the spear lodged in his back beyond reach for the ogres own arms. With that he began eating the dead, and periodically inhaling the contents of the pooled oasis water.

[Pyrrhus the Molossian]

The Dwarf stumbles about. He knows a little Reikspiel and little Arabyan. He lurches forward and shouts in both tongues.

"Water, water!"

He would wave his little flag above his head hoping to be noticed in case he was not heard. He stuffed both pistols into a single pocket of his pants and covered it with what other things he had there to cover it. He would relax a little, slowing down his pace so that he would lose less energy, hoping that someone would come to him.

Upon coming closer to the village, he is noticed by a number of the people in the fields. Not being familiar with dwarves the Arabyans cluster around him, extremely curious. Some of the younger ones touching him and then hastily running away. Word soon gets to the leader of the village who comes to see what the fuss is all about.

[Pyrrhus the Molossian]

The ogre piled the bodies up in the shade of a tree by a large pool of water. Skrag need bandage! He called to his humans, sighting the cuts and arrows lodged in his body - but most importantly the spear lodged in his back beyond reach for the ogres own arms. With that he began eating the dead, and periodically inhaling the contents of the pooled oasis water.

One of the cavalrymen more nuanced in the healing arts comes to tend to the ogre's wounds. Arrows are pulled out his flesh, the spear from his back, and all major wounds are sewed closed with a rather large needle and thread. Some of the local alcohol is used as a sort of antiseptic as well. Obviously the wounds still hurt, but the weapons have been removed and wounds stitched shut.

[Pericles of Athens]

Lil meat sack has Skrag's thanks. The Ogre remarked, a toothy smile occupying his blood smeared teeth. Skrag crush the meatsack's enemies good. He then gripped the barrel of alcohol and greedily slurped up its contents, little more than rubbing alcohol but it'd do the job. What we crush next? He questioned, an inpatient child at his heart. These people were simply, but there was plenty of man flesh to eat, water, and good fights.

[Bobington]

The Dwarf stumbles about. This heat was unbearable. He was born in the cool depths of a snowy mountain and spent early life drenched in water. Araby was taking its toll, he felt the heat scorching him. He repeated his plea for water. The stunt threw his stick away and looked around for water. Be it a tavern or a trough for a horse, he looked for that last gulp of liquid.

[Pyrrhus the Molossian]

Lil meat sack has Skrag's thanks. The Ogre remarked, a toothy smile occupying his blood smeared teeth. Skrag crush the meatsack's enemies good. He then gripped the barrel of alcohol and greedily slurped up its contents, little more than rubbing alcohol but it'd do the job. What we crush next? He questioned, an inpatient child at his heart. These people were simply, but there was plenty of man flesh to eat, water, and good fights.

Khalid approached the ogre again.

"Our mission was successful. The village is ours by the grace of Ormazd! I will leave my lieutenant here with some of the men to govern the village and bring them to our cause. Some of the people here speak of a commander of the sultan who passed through with a number of soldiers. He seeks to undo much of the work my men and I have done. We must bring him to battle and crush him. We head towards his last know position now."

[Pericles of Athens]

Aye? The Ogre questioned. I load da leadbelcher and Skrag give 'em a good trashin. After finishing his meal the Ogre made to fix up his canon and was fully prepared to march to war again. Hope these new meatsacks have more fight den da last ones.

[The Mad Skylord]

Wolfe stopped and took a slug of blood. The desert was a cruel beast, but he could navigate it with a bit of cunning. He looked up at the sun, to gauge it's position, and then started walking North-West, to bring him back to the shore and to one of Araby's major cities. He kept glancing at the sun to keep his position correct, and walked at a delatively quick speed, eager to be out of the sun.

[Stildawn]

It was night when Gilroth woke up... His slender fingers still clamped tight into the pores of the shard of timber that he had clung to, to save his life...

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he felt alone... Loneliness was not considered a bad state by the withdrawn man, no he welcomed it at most times... But this night, well... Well he would survive he thought to himself as he pushed himself over onto his back...

Gazing up at the stars he thought for a moment, taking a look at his surroundings, alone on a beach, nothing of note in sight in the star lit landscape... Cold... The cloudless desert as usual quickly releasing the earth's stored energy when the sun fell...

Rolling back onto his side, he propped himself up on one elbow and touched the timber once more, this time the heat came from his palm and quickly the wood was engulfed in flames, burning off the remaining moisture, and beginning to catch on the now dried wood...

With heat, he took stock, he sword was still with him, and his wits confirmed he was not injured beyond the usual aches one would expect from spending the last how many hours adrift in a storm...

Everything would have to wait til morning...

[Jokern]

"I am Seraphine." she says while sheathing her rapier. The vampire then mounts the horse after Mormeril, pausing for a moment to watch the combat between the dwarf and supposed vampire.

As soon as his new companion had mounted, Mormeril let out a cry and rode away, putting as much distance between them and the wreckage as possible before nightfall. Following the coast, they headed straight west, towards Al Haikk and the promise of loot, riches and fame. Hopefully the supplies would be sufficient for the journey to the City of Thieves, as it was impossible to tell one sand dune from the countless others in the Arabyan desert.

The Druchii did not say much for some time, instead focusing on his own thoughts and plans. The Human, Seraphine, was a magic user like the Witch Elves of his own people. The potential strength of magic could not be questioned, and keeping her as an ally for now could bode well for himself. However, the two of them would have to the share what little rations they had, as well slowing down the horse with their combined weight. If he had to, Mormeril thought, cutting her throat in her sleep would be the easiest solution. However it was short term thinking, even if it would raise his own chances of survival considerably.

It would have to be settled later, when the options and consequences were clearer, he thought finally and focused once more on the monotone scenery. Sand, sand and even more sand. Coldeye frowned, swearing to never return to this cursed, hot and dry land of desolate sea ever again once he had earned his pay in Al Haikk.