OOC--and we might be getting Akkarael Lin Soyune back. does a little dance to welcome the prophet back

IC--Drask and Eagle took the lead of the WarAngels for the two days' travel to and up the mountain. They travelled up switchbacks, crossing between the dark and the light sides of the mountain, just as many of the party had crossed from the dark and lights sides of neutrality, usually coming back. Drask had stood at the mountain's foot before they began their ascent, wondering at the mountain's strange features. He stooped at the dividing line, that thin area of neutraility, a grey area smaller than a knife's blade. He picked up some of the snow from the white side--it wasn't snow but pristine dirt, finer than any sand he had ever seen--and put it in one a pouch in Naur's pack. The dragon, ever curious, did the same with the black sand--a coarse, grainy dirt. He was careful not to mix them as he took a third sampling--of the grey dirt. Then the WarAngels continued up towards the cave.

After nearly a day of travelling, they reached the plateau upon which Eagle had sighted the cave. It was large and empty for the first hundred meters. Then two dozen fully armed and more than martially capable men erupted from the walls, where they'd lain in wait, unseen by trusting eyes.

'You will not get the crown. You will only see it gracing the brow of our dark mistress when she forges herself anew, as a deity.'

OOC--five are mages, and I'm not saying which. These guys are meant to take more than just one thread to kill, since I want a turn and I have to leave now cuz my... wonderful brother wants a turn on the comp.

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Truth is often more than just facts.

OOC:
ah....Des, i originally meant the cave to be at the bottom of the mountain, the end of the path. Which means when you reach the cave entrance, the gate, it's the first time when you reach the mountain. Anyway, it's fine this way.

IC:
Two dozen men stood, standing against the alliance.

"You will not get the crown. You will only see it gracing the brow of our dark mistress when she forges herself anew, as a deity."

"In her dreams..." muttered Eagle. The alliance was determined to stop it from happening, and they know they can do it. There are steps to be taken to reach the goal, and here is the first of the many steps. They not only have to walk the path, every step of the way, but they will also have to pace themselves. These two dozen armed men? They pale in comparison to what dangers and challenges lies in the future. The desperate odds doubled the alliance's fighting spirit. However, despite that, the first step must be taken: these men are not to be taken lightly.

The number of Altairs are not what it used to be, the strongest among them, iZrAfeL and Alveron won't be available in this fight. What they do have may seem random on the outside, but whether they are strong as group is yet to be seen.

Since the last fight in the forest before they met all the rabbits, they have discussed slightly about a formation that would utilize all their members, old and new, better than last time. Everyone would have a part. Obviously, everyone has different abilities, some favor close-combat, some favor magical attack, and some just kiks ass. Eagle was of course in the air support department. As the two dozen men appeared, the alliance quickly drew their respective weapons and was ready in a flash: they all knew it wasn't gonna be this easy.

Eagle spread his wings the second he saw a hint of something being wrong. The next instant he was already air-bourne, wind blade in hand.
vAldiCi gave the orders calmly and quickly, and everyone was in their repective spots, ready to face their opposition.

OOC: too lazy to fight today.

OOC-This is not a time I am up for writing a fight scene, so, we'll see how this goes.

IC-Walking alongside Tarisse and behind vAl, Chori noticed the different colored sands and blinked a few times. She nudged Tarisse and pointed. The half elf nodded but said nothing. On they walked until they were stopped by two dozen men, equipped to fight until Hell froze over. One spoke: 'You will not get the crown. You will only see it gracing the brow of our dark mistress when she forges herself anew, as a deity.'
Chori started. As was her natural instinct, she grabbed her sword. vAl sent her a 'careful+calm' vibe.
She nodded.
Tarisse, who didn't want Chori captured again, sent: If this gets to be too dangerous see if you can get Drask or Eagle to get you into the air From there you can shoot arrows down.
Tarisse you know I wouldnt do that Im a swordswoman.
And the prize archer of your second hometown!
Chori sighed. I will see.
The other members of the Alliance were beginning to get ready for battle. Chori clipped her bow to her quiver. She took her orders from vAlDiCi and moved to the right, folowing Romu and Di'Ethe. For some reason, she felt strangely out of place. Di'Ethe sent to her Fight hard Chori. She nodded in return. *You too Di'Ethe*

OOC-Let the games begin!
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There have been days when wariness stopped me from recognizing a broken heart or fear kept me from seeing a shattered soul.

OOC- since people are too lazy to fight, why are we fighting? u've already keeled 2 forests, r u gona take down the mountin? we just had a fight..(disagreement factor) anyways.. here we go. btw chori pls,... its either Valdici or vAldiCi... never vAlDiCi or however u just spelt it.



IC- This rag tag group of mercenaries looked like they had been more than touched by the vices of chaos. They all dressed in the same fashion and were equipped similarly, with swords and staves.

It was fairly easy to distinguish the spellcastrs as they were the ones with their lips open and firey determination in their eyes. Grey robes with chainmail clanking underneath.. these were things that vAl + the others of keen hearing picked up and shared with their fellow group members. Although... he noticed something that their grey attire masked.. A symbol?

Stay Calm...

Behind him he could feel the slight change in air pressure. That meant Sinister Eagle was already airborne and battle ready. A sharp whirring sound signalled the unsheathing of the ever sharp wind blade, humming with raw energy. His thoughts turned to the warrior of the wind. He could win it all for us without our help...the energy is almost unbound with a fierce determination...

Neither side seemed to want to advance, or make the first move. Maybe these were worthy opponents after all. vAldiCi felt sorry for those twenty four men who had to die this day. His eyes tightened as he tried to make out the symbol in their greyed out almost Khelori-style gear. Men they were, but tainted it seemed..

"You shall let us pass, or we shall pass through you." stated vAl simply, his voice ringing out and echoing back along the mountain ridges.
He scanned the group for a leader figure..
None?
or was the aura masked?

They did not answer back, but merely stood their ground. In fact..they seemed to stand very still - but that could b due to years of harsh training.

But it couldn't be..
As he searched again he could find no aura. And that could only mean one thing. He held his hand up in a military style stopping gesture.

She is watching.. do not show your true power.

The humming of the winds around SE faded slightly but not fully. vAldiCi approached slowly, cautiously... all of his senses powered fully.. ready for the slightest movement or surprise directed at him. And he moved all the way up to the first of these warriors and looked him in the eye.
The face was wrapped by a helmet of sorts with narrow slits for the eyes. He became bolder and took up his staff, which had been gliding behind him at the time. Both of his hands firmly gripping the fine wood he swung it straight into the midsection of the man. When the blow connected he had the sensation of hitting a dense bar of sand.

And then the man before him crumbled into a dust of grey that blew out with the wind. Before vAl had time to react, another one had sprung up with the same features and everything- and the sound of a stern voice boomed across the plateau once again.

'You will not get the crown. You will only see it gracing the brow of our dark mistress when she forges herself anew, as a deity.'

vAl released his hold on the staff, allowing it to resume its position behind his left shoulder.
"These were once men." he said simply, his eyes on the gate behind the cursed warriors.

OOC- no one wants to fight so, we dont have to fight.

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For Altair~

OOC- gahhh! I wanted to fight! I wrote this earlier on MSWord, but didn’t go online until now. Since I really don’t feel like deleting this, and since the last time I tried to post, I managed to royally screw up and erase the whole thing, I’m posting it anyway. The following is what would have been

OOC- Ev’rything’s all right, yes, ev’rythings fine. And we want You to sleep well tonight. Let the world turn without You tonight. Close Your eyes, close Your eyes and relax; think of nothing tonight… (ev’rything’s all right yes, ev’rything’s all right)

IC- Oh, rapture. Oh, joy. A battle. Vilset was not one who was accustomed to joining in battle. In the last battle he engaged in, he managed to become inconspicuous with a translucency potion; perhaps he could find another potion to fit this battle. After the opposing fighters said their part about the crown, both sides attacked. Vilset knew what his assigned duty was. He was to use his longsword*?* and fight of the enemies as best he could. Ha! He wouldn’t last long that way. He saw an enemy fighter rushing at him with a gruesome-looking weapon, a lance with thorn-like spikes circling up the sides. It was the kind of thing that would make a person uneasy just by looking at it. Vilset was looking at it much too up-close, and excessively too personal. Following gut instincts, he drew his sword and slashed out. It connected with the lance! He felt the vibrations running through his sword into his arm. These were very well-made weapons! He suddenly had an idea that felt like pure genius. A solidify potion! If a solidify potion were to be used on something that was already solid, then it would most certainly become much more steady! He only needed an opportunity to get the potion and administer it to his sword. SWAACCK!!! Okay, so maybe now was not the time. He parried the strikes from the lance as best he could. Vilset was wearing down. He was not trained to be a fighter. He was trained to be an apothecary. Those were two extraordinarily different lifestyles. The strikes were coming more and more rapidly, until…

SLLSSSHHHH!

Vilset was hit. He was pierced by the grinding lance in his lower ribcage. His attacker stood expressionless as Vilset fell to his knees. His chin fell to his chest. All went silent to his ears. His tongue no longer tasted the sweat dripping on his face. His eyesight was tinted blood red. His attacker drew the dreadful weapon out of Vilset’s body. He turned to focus his attention to another of Vilset’s allies.

Before the fighter moved more than one step, Vilset sprung up, longsword in hand. He raised it above his head and hammered it down with more power than he had ever felt before. The sword sliced through the body, having landed where the neck becomes the shoulder. The mighty fighter fell, dead. Vilset placed his hand on the spot where he had been struck. There was no wound. His eyes were glowing red. His jaws were open, displaying the fearsome fangs. Indeed, at that moment, Vilset was a sight to see. “It takes more than that to kill a vampire, vile fiend!”

OOC- sorry about not posting for a long time. I kinda went crazy last Tuesday, and just recently recovered. But I’m okay now. “To be or not to be; that is the bare bodkin that makes calamity out of so long life! For who would fardels bear, till Burnam Wood do come to Dunsinane, but that the fear of something after death murders the innocent sleep, great nature’s second course, and makes us rather sling the arrows of outrageous fortune than fly to others we know not of!” “ There’s the respect must give us pause: wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst; for who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor’s wrong the proud man’s contumely, the law’s delay…” “If music be the fruit of love play on, for ‘tis a tale told by an idiot filled with sound and fury signifying nothing!” “Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend. How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is – to speak less than thou knowest, lend less than thou owest.” “ ‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. But soft you, the fair Ophelia: Ope not thy ponderous and marble jaws, but get thee to a nunnery – go!” [They both bow to the audience. The players – and it is hoped – the audience applaud them.]


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