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18+ When Gods Fall

Discussion in 'Active Stories' started by Harkatti, Jun 11, 2018.

  1. Alty

    Alty Caw Caw

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    Morthaine was certain that her heart had reached its final stage of solid and still when the first bolt signalled fight or flight. She stared boldly at the stiff, threatening bolt that marked the ground, and her lungs urged her chest to decompress. She visibly had not recoiled, though her innards were telling otherwise. Breath was rammed out of her very being, so harshly forced that her vocals clicked. Her feet made their strike to the field without a single cue from her own brain, relying fully on muscle memory. Only when an arrow hurtled for her whisking form did her mentality finally activate.

    There was no time to stumble from her dead run. She evaded the dart, a trick that involved pivoting on her foot to drive her weight forwards and under, and her rapid sprint was revived. Shortly did her feet collide with the hinges of the gate, hitching herself upwards and level with the ranged attackers, but not without all the grace she could manage. A choice made by one look at the pair of mages, the imperial, and the nord with the massive sword. Her first target was advanced in archery, a skill she never developed but definitely countered. She was diving for her opponent, the twig of an arrow ricocheting off her reflective brace, a chance taken wisely as her other palm flattened against the hilt of a kunai into the shoulder. Blood curved in the air as it was yanked only to shank a cheek, not of the same target.

    She had alternated between two, both laying dead with less ammo than when they approached, and her next prey was of the same class. She was slamming birds to the ground one by one by the salvaged arrows in her talons, and by her fifth target did her ears burn in irritation and panic. She was taking caution in the spellcasters approaching. What would be her luck this time? Amongst her caws and grunts ripped a cry, interrupting her focus on the magic-wielders, as a dagger slithered about her right bicep. Her own cry. By the sky if she wasn't going to isolate the hand from it's very limb- her sword unsheathed with a wicked graze to the scabbard, ringing with threats and promises as she spun under a blow for her head and drove Risktaker into the underside of a jaw.
     
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  2. TheArgonianDrell

    TheArgonianDrell Well-Known Member

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    Argus sighed quietly as the woman dashed ahead of the group. She'd refused to follow his instructions, and dashed on ahead, scaling the walls like the lizards of Black Marsh. But even as she broke ranks, she did what their group was supposed to; draw arrow and spell fire from the fighters on the ground. "Follow!" Argus hissed at the others, and made for the wall at sprint. He'd already calculated his route, and made adjustments for the projectiles that whizzed towards him. If the full attention of the wall sentries had been directed towards the group he was a part of, they'd have been shredded in moments. But the hooded womans' arrival in their midst, and before that, the charge of the first group had distracted them.

    He made contact with the wall, and immediately his hands and feet went to work, snatching hand holds and placing his feet in toe holds with the surety that came with years of experience. In mere moments he was atop the wall, swinging his body over the parapets one handed, as his other hand secured itself around the haft of his weapon. He drew it from the leather holster on his back, and performed a high slash, driving back a pair of masked men who were making for the nord womans unguarded back. The men hesitated- they'd dropped their bows in favour of maces, and Argus' staff outranged them by a substantial amount. With a gentle smile, which, to be fair seemed much more menacing on his kind than a human, he gestured the robed pair closer.

    With twin battle cries, the men charged, weapons raised to crush their foes skull. A quick jab from the curved blade atop his staff sent one man stumbling back, a shallow gash on his right shoulder. The second man, seeing the argonian stretched out, apparently in no position to defend himself, shouted triumphantly. But the staff was not Argus' only weapon. A decade of training had honed his body into a weapon in its own right. His left foot snapped up, the heel of his boot caught the base of the mans' chin. A painful blow, to be sure, but not lethal. Then, Argus didn't need it to be lethal, as the masked mace wielder soon discovered. With a strangled scream, he fell from the wall, and landed with a wet crunch.

    The wounded man, spat a curse, and rushed his argonian oppenent, but once more, Argus was faster, taking a half step back, he looped his staff around his body, transferring the haft to his free left hand, and performed another high slash, this one connecting with his attackers throat, and opening a crimson gash. Mace toppling from his fingers, the dying human fell face first a full metre from him. Stepping around the fallen man, he took a two handed grip on the weapon, and searched for more challengers.
     
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  3. Morbidbread

    Morbidbread Fight for the lost

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    Karon charged into the courtyard, his armor clanking as he moved. His longsword clutched in both hands, he approached the large group of the robed and masked men who were fighting the nord Beran, and the altmer womans' imperial bodyguard. Their backs were to him, and if he'd been an assassin, he would have taken full advantage of the situation. However, his code of honor prevented him from doing something so underhanded. Instead he drew in a breath and shouted "cowardly dogs! Turn and face me!" A pair of the masked and robed defenders paused and turned, one wielding a long spear, the other a short sword. Most men would hesitate when confronted with a heavily armored knight. Not these two. The one with the spear rushed forwards, a battlecry on his lips, the other following up behind him and brandishing his sword.

    The knight brought his sword up in a two handed high guard, and bided his time. When he judged the time was right, he brought his sword down, angling his wrists so that the flat of the blade struck the haft of the spear, forcing it down. With his weapon in a dominant position, Karon slashed upwards, his swords keen edge easily parting the mans' head from its shoulders. By the time the headless corpse collapsed, the second man nearly on top of him, slashing with the shorter blade, spitting curses. Karon switched to a more fluid one handed style, parrying several blows from the masked enemy. After exchanging several blows, one of which scored a long scratch along the bretons' breastplate, the knight finished the fight with a low slash that opened up the mans' thigh. As he stumbled, the breton stepped back, before lunging and sending his blade through the pathetic protection his enemies' robes offered and into his heart.

    Freeing his blade, Karon looked around. The battle was still in full swing, and the second group had gained the walls, disrupting the enemy archers and spellcasters. He saluted them with his blade before moving to reinforce the nord and imperial pair still embattled deeper into the courtyard. Moving quickly for one so covered in armor, he intercepted an axe wielding zealot, and cut him down in three swift strokes. If the battle continued like this, they might not even need the assistance of the altmer sorceress and her masked companion. "Fight on, comrades! For Tamriel! For the Living!"
     
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