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Terror
May 17, 2009 20:39:34 GMT 5.5
Post by Groar on May 17, 2009 20:39:34 GMT 5.5
Terror…
It was time once again, the moon was bright and full, half obscured by dark grey clouds. The creatures of the night had ceased with their noises, crawling back to where they came from. This was not a night to celebrate, it was a night to fear. Anyone in their right mind would be locked away in their homes, cuddling with their loved ones by a warm bright fire.
The reason…
Only one day had passed since the releasing of Mortia and her fiends, and already they were restless. Her minions had already spread across the realm of Arysia like wild fire, attempting to destroy and corrupt anything in their path. They were once again free, and freedom is something of great value in Arysia, not something to be taken fore granted.
One minion of Mortia opted to stay behind as everyone else left, Groar, one of Mortia’s most faithful servants. He stayed in the Eastern Lands for two reasons; To spread the word of Mortia’s return, and to enroll as many servants into Mortia’s service as possible. If they refused the consequence was always a grotesque and horrific one. And tonight would be no different.
Groar gingerly slipped into one of the eastern villages. He moved down the streets, keeping to the shadows. His eyes seen very little, but his ears picked up on every little detail. They heard the small rodents scrambling across the stone road, the sound of a small infant crying in the building ahead of him, and then the sound of feet scurrying away into an alley. In an instant Groar busted into pursuit and in a few seconds had his bow loaded and aimed.
He released the string, and with a twang the arrow sailed through air and caught the collar of an elderly mans shirt (NPC). The arrow had pinned him to the back wall, and Groar ambled up to this man and asked, “Do you pledge your allegiance to Mortia?”
The man stuttered and eventuall said, “No, I can not.” And with that Groar pulled out his dagger and slit the man’s throat. Groar pulled his arrow out and the man’s limp body fell to the ground with a dull thud. Groar then turned around and marche out of the alley and into the town once more.
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Terror
May 29, 2009 11:16:45 GMT 5.5
Post by Destiny on May 29, 2009 11:16:45 GMT 5.5
Rage.
That was all he felt at the moment. There had been too much loss in his life. First his wife, and then his apprentice. The losses resonated around him, till all he felt was rage - rage, hatred and a need for revenge. Till he was ready to kill, till he was ready to die in the attempt. It was said that his apprentice was trapped in the tomb of Mortia herself. Maybe he could save him, if he tried. Maybe there was still a hope. The young, foolish boy.
He ran out of his house. The moonlight shined from above him, but it burned his eyes. There was not much he could run, with his failing knees. He was fit, but age caught up with everyone, even sorcerers. Some people had tried to stop that, but it never worked, never worked. All that caused was pain, pain and anger and disappointment. He had enough of these not to even try to attempt to stem off the disease that all mankind eventually succumbed to. The night was silent, too silent, too many were in their houses. In this part of Arysia, all had heard about the rise of Mortia.
He slowed down a little in the city, panting heavily, hands on his aching knees. Silently he cursed his infirmity. He started walking towards the tomb, wondering what he would do when he reached. Suddenly, a shadow shifted in front of him, walking out from an alley. He let out a brilliant burst of light, blinding. When the light faded, he was in no doubt of who he had seen, and who he was facing.
Mortia had many minions and Groar was one of the most loyal. Histories mentioned him sparingly, giving no details but those which only served to magnify apprehension. There were some tales of his changing into bats or something like that, associated with midnight and dark magic. Anger filled him once again. He saw the corpse in the alley, and felt sick. "I will kill you and your mistress," he promised the man in front of him. "Much as I have played my part in freeing you - you will die by by hands." Throwing up his arms, he spoke a spell which if successful would send a burst of energy on the...thing..in front of him. He could feel a shift in energy as the spell left his lips.
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Terror
Jun 3, 2009 7:21:30 GMT 5.5
Post by Groar on Jun 3, 2009 7:21:30 GMT 5.5
A grin of pure iniquitous delight spread across Groar’s face as the image of the man’s face played back in his mind, over and over. Thoughts f his family and loved ones never even crossed his wicked maligned mind. Groar was single minded, nothing mattered except serving Mortia, and that was all he would do with unwavering loyalty.
As thoughts swirled around in his, Groar made the decision to return to the place of his imprisonment. The place was not far from the town, how no one had seen it was a mystery. It was towards the southern border of the town, down a winding path and there it was set into the side of a mountain.
But before Groar had even reached the southern border his ears picked up the sound running feet and the rough raspy breath of an old man. Groar backed into the shadows and crouched down, the man still had a ways to go before he reached his position.
“What the luck,” Groar whispered. “Two old men in one day.”
The man was only twenty yards away when he jumped out of the shadows and into the middle of the street. But instantly he knew this was no normal man, but still fear did not exist for servant of death. This man had a certain aura, though not visible Groar could sense it. And just as the man began to unleash a spell Groar shifted into a giant bat, and took to the air. He veered left and resifted back into his traditional form on top of a building. Next he swiftly armed his bow and let loose three arrows at the sorcerer, each in a horizotal line about 4 inches apart.
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Terror
Jun 3, 2009 10:26:40 GMT 5.5
Post by Destiny on Jun 3, 2009 10:26:40 GMT 5.5
He felt sick, and tired, and old. It was a horrible deed that had been done the last night, and as he neared the cell of the old villian the gruesomeness of the deed pressed on him more and more. He should have taught the boy better, praised him more, assured him that he was one of the most powerful of all sorcerers. How much evil would have been undone if he had been a little kinder to the apprentice boy? He could not help but blame himself, could not help but feel that this was his fault.
It is not your fault, his wife would have whispered to him. All the evil in the world is not your fault. But maybe if she had still been alive with her good counsel and sweet smiles this would never have happened. As such he could take no comfort from the shadow of reassurance that she, atleast, would never have doubted him. A sudden tear came into his grey eyes and he quickly blinked it away. He had a fight to win.
As soon as he had released the spell, the man had suddenly disappeared. It took his old eyes a moment to see that he had turned into a bat and flown high above the air, and that he was now preparing to unleash an arrow. As always, flexible for his age, Nathaniel was able to veer away from the first one, but he went in the direction of the second. He turned his hands three times in the air to make a shield, but it was a weak one. He veered once more to the right, and then thought he had missed them all, when he felt a sharp pain on his left side,
It was nothing more than a grazed wound. He bit her his lip. The arrow, at least, was not lodged in his arm. He could take care of it later. He turned to the side, facing his opponent, and then made a small circle with his first finger, and then following by opening his palm and ramming the air. Suddenly, the dark place was flooded by light as two bolts of lightning sped towards the creature, one from each side.
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