Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Fri Jun 04, 2021 5:22 pm**

A good Fight

Blinking in the darkness the first thing Glodthor was able to focus on was the business end of a crossbow. Between his bulk and his lateness in noticing the weapon in the darkness there was little he could do to prevent a volley from being fired at him, with little time and fewer options the giant raised his shoulder lowered his head giving him no shot on his neck and charged. The first impact caught him in the bicep, a stinging impact that would not slow his massive frame. He was nearly upon him when the second impact caught him in the cheek. Piercing his flesh before coming to a stop against his teeth. Before he could close on the crossbowman the swordsman stepped between them but his valiance allowed him little time to make use of his sword. Glodthor cleaved madly with his massive ax at the elvish swordsman's neck intent on cleaving the man's head from his shoulders. Whether it was by luck or skill the elf ducked the blow and Glodthor's ax sunk deep into the bark of the oak he'd not paid heed to.

The elf came back up a cocky grin plastered on his face as he made one mistake too many. Instead of flee the man tried to use a long sword in a short space. Glodthor however paid no time trying to retrieve the weapon instead clubbing the man with a back hand that dizzied him and ended his pathetic attempt at swordplay. Grabbing the man's head he slammed him face first into the second end of his ax splitting his head at the mouth all the way to the neck. A sickening bloody gurgle emanated from the soon to be corpse only to be interrupted by the bloodthirsty roar of something behind him. Turning to face the challenge Glodthor grinned his teeth crimsoned from the wound to his cheek. When the Moratallen locked eyes with him she stopped her charge to size up what was likely the first larger threat she'd encountered since she'd been shamed from whatever hall had had the misfortune of baring a traitor. Grabbing the bolt in his cheek Glodthor pushed the head of the weapon past his teach and bit down on the wooden shaft while snapping the end off with his hand.

Either intimidated or impressed the other morattallen made the mistake of giving him a moment to breath. Spitting the bloody head of the bolt from his mouth the giant met her howl with his own, red foam forming at the edges of his mouth as he strode forward. Her weapon raised, the Other Morattalen met his challenge striving forward. Her weapon was nasty he would have to keep the spikes away from his internals, furthermore he was unarmed now. Deciding to trust that his bulk would carry him through he drove his legs forward gouging the earth with his eagerness for battle set on tackling or at least disarming his foe. Victories against smaller foe had made the half giant before him weak to their own kind, unprepared for Glodthor to take the offensive from her, the swing of he club came too late. Ducking the blow he felt the end of the clubs hand catch his shoulder and whip across his back its spikes covering his back in countless slashes. However as her club struck him he struck her with the entire weight of his body lowered to catch her in the gut. The half giant wheezed as she folded over shoulder before being tossed across the forest floor. Glodthor also tumbling as he lost his footing in the clash.

In the gloom of the dark forest both giants arose Glodthor now breathing heavy and spitting the blood that flooded his maw. The other Morattalen for her part was no longer certain of an easy raid, the bloodthirsty look her face had worn on arrival now marred with a reality she wasn't fond of. Still wearing something between a grin and grimace Glodthor rose his fists to meet his now also unarmed opponent curious as to how she would proceed.

Posted: **Sat Jun 12, 2021 12:09 am**

Glade 65th, 121. Northern Wilds

Even the wind that came off the dagger felt sharp. Nok weaved around each attack in a panic, keeping his distance with only the threat of an illusionary weapon. Despite the clenched smile hungry for blood, the eyes of the Grackle bandit held a note of fear each time the glowing white dagger came close to him. These feints would only buy Nok time. Hopefully it would be enough to think of a way out.

The enemy blade pierced the skin of Nok's chest, adding to the other wounds that marked each narrow escape. He was getting tired, slower, and the bandit knew it. The wicked Grackle's eyes widened and his smile turned into a vicious grimace as he closed in. Nok realized that this was the time to act. A plume of illusionary fire erupted from his false dagger and he tossed it from hand to hand, just as he'd seen his opponent do. A sharp pain shot through Nok's temple as he focused on his construct, reeling as he kept it moving and alive with fire. This display made the bandit draw back, giving Nok enough space for a convincing throw as he lobbed his illusion at the Grackle, dispelling it on impact. His opponent shrieked and threw his free hand over his chest to feel for a wound that was not there.

Childhood scraps were much different than a true fight. Nok was determined to throw a punch and he reared his fist back. Habits, however, do not easily die and he opened his hand mid-throw. The result was a cross between a push and a slap, but the strike to his nose stunned the bandit and he dropped his dagger. The flashing steel caught Nok's eye and he dove for the weapon, snatching it up as he burst through the flaps of Glodthor's tent.

Pure chaos had consumed the camp. Blood wet the grass and the earth smoldered from a fire that the Sky Guards seemed desperate to smother. The ground trembled from the thunderous pace of a horse that circled the camp and the titanic struggle between Glodthor and a foe that nearly matched his size. The horse closed in and a horned figure that sat behind it's rider threw a flask of Alchemist's Fire at the group of Sky Guards. Green flames erupted on impact, engulfing an unfortunate Avialae whose wings sent burning feathers into the air. The rest of the guards became divided between saving their comrade and fighting off the attackers.

The bandit who had thrown the flask jumped off the back of the horse. His horns were wrapped with a length of cord that smoldered with devilish clouds of smoke. Two remaining flasks of Alchemist's Fire hung on an bandolier slung over his chest, but he did not seem ready to use them. Instead, he drew a large scimitar and slashed it through the air with a flourish. His eyes settled on Areya as she stood over the body of his slain friend, tomahawk in hand. The Lysanrin advanced towards her, ready to strike.

Just as Nok called out to warn her, the Grackle bandit slammed into him with a running tackle. The two goblins rolled across the ground from the impact, the bandit screaming and clawing after his stolen dagger. They became entangled in a flurry of slaps as Nok held the weapon out of the other's grasp, too afraid to use it himself lest it be ripped away and turned against him. In their struggle they stumbled between the feet of the two dueling giants. Their heavy footfalls posed a greater threat and the two Grackles forgot each other as they tried to avoid being crushed. Summoning what little strength he had left, Nok threw himself out of the fray and crawled away as fast as he could. The other goblin tried to follow suit but he could not make the distance, landing prone and finding himself under the boot of the female Moratallen. His spine snapped under her weight and she glanced down to see what she had crushed.

Trembling, bleeding, and wracked with pain, Nok hid himself within the branches of a nearby bush. He withdrew his limbs, making himself as small as possible, and prayed to Vhexur that luck would favor his life.

Posted: **Sun Jun 13, 2021 6:28 pm**

Thread Title

Time Stamp

Areya's eyes grew wide at seeing the speed in which a Moratallen could cross such a space, doubly so when she heard the crushing impact of him tackling the female. But that would not last for long, as a horned Lysanrin approached her with a particularly large and nasty looking scimitar. She saw Nok being attacked by a goblin of some sort, as the Lysanrin approached, teasing, testing swings and a bloodthirsty look. Areya knew instantly that the man had a reach advantage with that weapon, so she reverted to her instincts that had been honed in the Warrens.

She turned and ran, heading straight across the clearing to a nearby path into the forest.

As she had turned, she saw out of the side of her eye that the man started after her. Good, she had wanted him to follow her. She needed to find a place to fight that was more akin to the tighter tunnels of the Warrens. If one had looked at any Legionnaire who had been there for an decent amount of time, they would see that smaller weapons were always ideal.

Areya's boots found a tight, curvy deer path, and up ahead, she saw a large tree in a curve of it. She looked over her shoulder, seeing the Lysanrin gaining on her quickly. But a plan was forming, a loose one. She pumped her arms heavier, trying to put a little extra distance between her and her horned pursuer. She dipped around the tree, seemingly to follow the path. Instead, she stopped and crouched just around the edge of the tree, waiting, holding her breath. As the Lysanrin came around the curve, her tomahawk was swinging in a sideways chop and he was moving too fast to notice her immediately. Her axe chunked into his shin, lodging there as he went sprawling forward, screaming in pain.

The momentum ripped the tomahawk from her hands, as she watched as he got his own hands out in front of him. He landed on his palms, but Areya winced as she heard something crack. She was already standing, her other tomahawk in hand as he rolled over onto his back, his left arm clutched against his check. As he saw her, he quickly drew a knife, throwing it at her, cutting a deep slice through her upper arm before disappearing into the underbrush. She hissed angrily, as she continued her approach. The man kicked at her with his good leg, trying to disarm and deter her. He got several kicks past her defenses, leaving deep bruises in her thigh, groin, and stomach.

She sunk her axe into his foot and the kicking stopped. She stood on his disabled left side, fuming from pain. In a desperate plot, he reached across his chest to grab one of the vials on the bandolier, and Areya brought the tomahawk down, severing his hand and burying the axe into his sternum. He screamed loudly in pain. She yanked her tomahawk out, the man entirely disabled at the limbs, and she cut away his bandolier, curious as to what it was he was trying to do with these vials. She belted her tomahawk and yanked her other from his shin, causing more screams to ring out. She left him there, not worried if he lived or died. Maybe he'd serve as a distraction and hindrance to his fellow bandits. She shuffled back to the clearing, still trying to catch her breath through deep wheezes, one hand with the tomahawk clutching at her bleeding arm, the other carrying the bandolier loosely at her hip.

She was tempted to simply disappear into the darkness of the forest until the battle came to an end one way or another. But she was still angry and in pain, and really wanted to hurt some more bandits if able. It wasn't long until she came upon the bush Nok was hiding in, not realizing he was in there. She set down the bandolier, leaning against a tree, resting to try and get some breath and energy back before continuing on.

Posted: **Mon Aug 16, 2021 1:47 pm**

A good Fight

Blood pounded in his ears, seeped from his wounds. He grinned crimsoned teeth reflected in the silver moonlight. The barbarian was in his element. Free from the constraints of the city and its laws. He stared across at the bloodied amazonian moratallen across from him wondering what her next move would be.

Normally he'd be bounding forward to continue this brawl but the presence and wellbeing of his comrades danced at the edge of his mind. He could hunt and kill the rest of these bandits any day he wanted. He could not resurrect his allies as easily. Deciding the bandits wouldn't need much more convincing to cut their losses Glodthor stepped forward and began to breath in. His lungs his stomach every inch of empty space he could find within his torso he filled with what would become a roar. Like dragons lit fire in their bellies in the ancient tales Glodthor began to rumble with a deep bass like a warning growl from a grizzly you haven't quite seen yet in its dark den. It ripped through his teeth spittle and blood spraying in a deafening challenge to anyone able bodied enough to come back and fight him.

For a moment there was again silence in the forest before the Mortallen across from him lowered its head. Reaching into her pack she pulled horn and sounded a retreat never meeting his eyes. She was a bandit the shame of retreat was something he doubted was new to her. Letting the bandits taste their weakness would cow them for some time, but utter annihilation would be the only solution. That however was not to be Glodthors job. He was a lumberjack out to chop down trees. Stomping loudly back to his ax he glowered at the cadaver still limply suspended on it. Kicking it to the ground he wrenched his ax from the tree glowering at anything that moved in the darkness. The sounds of the wounded and fleeing bandits filled the air. Then those sounds too grew quieter. The giant ax in hand tromped back to camp calling out the names of Nok and Areya hoping he hadn't lost what little personality this traveling group had. His wounds throbbed but were for him mostly superficial. Pressing a hand to his cheek he wondered how long it would take for the holes in his cheek to seal back up.

As Glodthor's boiling blood cooled he thanked his father for beating the berserker out of him as many times as he had in youth. He'd begun to understand the values of living to fight ones next battles with more soldiers than win them at the cost of all of them. Vowing not to underestimate the ferocity of bandits again Glodthor pondered whether he would see them again on his return trip to Kalzasi.

Legend of Ransera

Looking for Bandits - Part 1 (Glodthor)

Re: Looking for Bandits - Part 1 (Glodthor)

Re: Looking for Bandits - Part 1 (Glodthor)

Re: Looking for Bandits - Part 1 (Glodthor)

Re: Looking for Bandits - Part 1 (Glodthor)