The Secret of Castle Doom Chapter 2: The Celestial Judgements

[Kildare]

OOC: Umm...Arhra, please watch your posts. I'm Arthus, not Kildare, remember?

[Obsolete57]

((*hand emerges from pile of rocks* I'm... not... dead...))

"And STAY down!" Charcion roared as he swiftly eviscerated a former demon hunter. Damnit Arthus, he thought to himself, get out of here! Charcion pivoted his head for a moment, and what he saw made his gut stir. Aside from the faint outline of the specters, he saw what was... no... it couldn't be. He contacted Notikas in his mind, "Notikas! Contact Arthus, the remanants of the Guard.. The Ebon Guard damnit! They're at his flank!" As Charcion quickly returned his attention to battle, barely getting out of the way of a slash that would've relieved him of his head.

((If there aren't any remaining Ebon Guard, tell meh. My memory sucks and I'm too lazy to look up the first one.))

[Kildare]

Why are they running from me? Arthus cursed silently in his mind. No matter how many times he tried to chase down one of the spectres, they simply retreated before him, only to go into a different direction to slay another of Arthus' knights. A dozen possibilities raced through Arthus' mind, but only one stuck out over the rest. Could the undead or whatever foul masters they served wanted to capture him.....alive? Arthus shuddered at the implications of it should that happen. Then it struck him. Could it be a diversion?

As soon as the thought occured to him, a great roar pierced the air behind him.....a roar that had a chilling familiarity in it. Arthus turned around just in time to greet the face of a mighty Ebon Guard - and to duck the swing of it's bloody axe aiming for his head. With his quick reflexes, Arthus plunged his blazing sword right into the giant's belly, and sent the body flying backwards with a mighty kick.

Truely, Arthus' latter assessment had been correct. The spectres had only been manipulating his army, diverting them right into their trap. The knights werenow caught in between the unholy fury of the Ebon Guard and the chilling cold of the Death Spectres.

[Arhra]

OOC: Point of clarification, the Ebon Guard are human sized. They're just really nasty fighters.

Nezurahl coldly surveys the battle. Each strike was carefully calculated and he was slowly bringing the army of the knights to their knees. Unless they could draw upon some inner reserve of strength they were finished. He knew this, indeed, he was counting on it. His watching presence makes its presence known, shaping an image with his magic. In the midst of the Ebon Guard that move forwards in terrible unity, methodically taking apart any that oppose them with their cursed blades, Nezurahl appears. His image is wavering and transparent, it is possible to see straight through him. This illusion woud do for his purposes though.

"So we meet again Arthus," Nezurahl says, watching the knight's leader with a curious intensity. "Your victory was utterly futile and the Fifth Horseman is loose in the world. You know all too well what he will do if he succeeds. Your quest is doomed almost before you begin. Here, half a world away, the struggle is ended. "

[Lumaes]

The trees rustle and a mysterious figure leaps from the closely packed woods. Clutched in his hands is an exotic-looking double bladed glaive. Dressed entirely in stylish black leathers (which is the style amongst young nobles at the time) he swings his weapon expertly and flings himself at the nearest wraith.
"For House Elelden!!"
His blades carve the air, but the uncarvable spectre's shadowy form merely curls away from the blades path. The newcomer fights furiously, but to no avail, as the spectre glides closer and sticks its incorporeal claws into him. He convulses his eyes bulging from his head and then he collapses.....

[PhoenixFlame]

Aeris squirms into what might be considered a lying down position, but within the pouch of an earth dragon, she really couldn't tell up from down. The cleric silently wonders what Arthus and his men are dealing with, and hoped that their diversion had bought him time.

Removing a small glass mirror, she tries to remember the ancient art of scrying, silently casting a minor spell that made the mirror smoke with heavy fog. She spoke Arthus' name, and a dim, fuzzy picture of the Apocalypse knight flickered into existance within the smoking mirror. He had his sword drawn, and was yelling things too unclear to discern. Moving the mirror slightly, her spine tingles as it reveals the ghostly from of Nezurahl, talking back to Arthus. Dismissing the divination, she silently prays that it her rather inept skill at scrying had been foiled into seeing that illusion. "I killed him! how could he still be... But Arthus did say he wasn't destroyed... How was he manifested into visible form?" she frantically thinks, trying to find an answer.

[Rhiya Ravenwing]

OOC: gonna try something sudden.

BIC:
Uncertainty emanating from Wind's pouch made her squirm with uncomfortableness. One was emanating pain, the other fear. Then there was the something that she had felt just before Shuren's powers were released.
What is that darkness...?! How........ she churned restlessly.
Abruptly, she made the decision to surface. She erupted out of the earth; a giant earth whale surfacing as if taking a breath for a long dive. Instead, she rolled to one side and, with one claw, patted the bloated pouch carefully.
Both Aeris and Shuren were expelled with a whoosh of hot air. They tumbled a few feet before coming to a rest.
Unable to speak common, and barely able to speak feral, Wind tried clumsily and desperately to convey to them that something was wrong.
"<Shuren! We must go back to larger pack! There is minor danger ahead of us, and [insane] danger behind. I can't travel fast enough,>" she managed in feral.
:Perhaps I may be of assistance,: a whispered mind-voice entered all their thoughts.
Breeze, the mighty stallion of the air, materialized from the whisps of air around them. He still displayed signs of fatigue from his previous battle, but he stood proudly, a glistening blue-white. The great earth wyrm that was Wind heaved a sigh of relief. A translator at last!

[Kildare]

OOC to Lumaes: Point of clarification(sorry, Arhra :p), the army is actually WAY out of the woods now. BTW, have you posted your bio yet?

OOC: I'd appreciate it if SOMEBODY could create an ELVEN character to probably lead a "rescue" contigent of elves from the nearby elven settlement.

BiC:

"Curse you, foul necromancer!" Arthus spat at the dark sorcerer that spoke to him even as he skillfully skewered an advancing Ebon Guard with a good double-cross slash. He looked around and in his heart, he knew that he and the rest of the army was doomed. There was no escape. Then he turned back to the necromancer. "Even if I fall this day, know that my death will not go in vain. My friends will surely avenge my death!" He threw a curse at Nezurahl even as he said it and began to hack the Ebon Guards with a righteous fury never seen before. Even the Ebon Guard, tough as they were, broke way from him, trying to escape the reach of his suddenly bloodthirsty blade.

However, so intense was Arthus' anger that he did not notice the telltale streaks of arrows that suddenly took down the flank of the Ebon Guard ranks....


***********************************

Arg'naranth watched with amusement as he saw the mighty dragon plunge into the ground with it's companions, but not before taking the rest of the gorecrows to their deaths. Arg'naranth knew from the start that the gorecrows would not succeed in destroying the sorceress and her party of do-gooders. However, in that failure, Arg'naranth had managed to observe the tactics and abilities of his opponents. Surely even now, the foul sorceress was bound to think them safe from all harm.

But Arg'naranth would prove her wrong. With a bloody warcry in the demon's gluttural language, the mighty lieutanent of the Lord of Pain rose up high in the air on great burning wings, and sped towards his intended victims with inhuman speed. And directly behind him, a horde of lesser demons followed suit, with the exception of one, gigantic beast, it's writhing tentacles striking the air......

[Bailey]

Ilgivan reloaded, making certain that his wit-beast dripped acid on each arrow to destroy the undead.
The tortured screams of the undead echoed through his old blood. "please let me die" they repeated, a message said so many times, it had lost all meaning to those who said it. Those who were struck down did not think a word, but Ilgivan could sense the relief washing forth from their bodies, finally at rest.
As Ilgivan continued his barrage, he could sense more warriors, probably elven, moving towards the battle.
Ilgivan continued his firing, these undead were begging to die, something unheard of since the forging of all those poor souls, back before the dragons returned.
OOC: Ilgivan is referring to an event in which raiders robbed villagers of their souls and set them loose upon their fellows. The raiders were finally stopped when FitzChivalry or Changer as he was known to the old blood community aided the Farseer king bring about the return of dragons.

[Arhra]

Nezurahl's image wavers and fades away. His presence remains watching over the battle though. He had already given the order to withdraw. He had not lost a single one of the Ebon Guard, they were virtually impossible to kill without magic but they could be worn down eventually. The wights would nigh inevitably rise again from even the most terrible of wounds unless their hearts were removed or their bodies destroyed. Even if they all had been destroyed it would have been but a minor setback. Let the knights think they had been victorious this day, Nezurahl's purpose here had been fulfilled. His spirit flits away to report to the Lord of Pain.

* * *

Shuren stirs. He can feel a great evil approaching like an ominious cloud. He still felt oddly empty and incoherent but the pain was diminishing. All his senses seem to be flahsing to shapr focus before fading out again. His heartbeat seems unnaturally loud in his ears and he can feel the blood pulsing through his veins. He says something about what he can sense but he's not sure if anyone can hear it. He struggles to his feet inside the pouch.