To Heir is Human XVI-Playground Options

[jack cloudy]

Next one.

OOC: Maybe a bit unrealistic, but everyone makes mistakes at time. Big mistakes.

Flint Ironwood.

Flint threw down the bow with a growl of frustration. His remaining arrows joined the weapon a moment later.
,,Screw this! I'm too old to do this kind of stuff. I'm going to help with the retreat. Feel free to use these arrows." He spoke to no one in particular and made his way for the stairs.

He stopped at the bottom of the breach. So far, no snakemen had crawled over the pile of rubble yet. The Breton looked at the stacked bricks and then begun to climb. At the top, he could see the defenders who had fallen.
,,I wonder why they haven't stormed over the place yet. This close to the wall, the archers can't shoot at them." He thought to himself.

At the top, an unwelcome surprise awaited him. One moment, he was looking at the cloudcovered sky. The other, he was blinded by a red flash.
,,Aah!" Flint screamed as he tumbled backwards. Somehow, he managed to fire off a telekinetic blast on pure instinct that smashed the top off the improvised wall he'd been climbing. The old man groaned when he came to a halt at the bottom. He didn't feel well. His forehead was throbbing, his right hand felt as if it was on fire and his knees weren't doing much better either. And he still couldn't see. Something was running into his eyes, something warm and liquid.

He heard a hiss. He then heard the thunderclap of air moving to fill an irregular vacuum.
,,What was that?!" Flint thought. He had been unable to see the snakeman that had first attacked him at the top of the wall, then slithered after him as he fell, finally to be teleported away by Aleatoire. Or at least, partially. What was left wasn't in any condition to do anything. Flint heard a crack.
,,And what was that?" He mumbled and used his left hand to wipe the liquid out of his face. The pain had now almost ceased as he'd become numb to it. Now he could finally see again and he looked at the hand he'd used to wipe with. It was covered in blood.
,,Oh, crap."

He looked at his other hand. The mashed piece of flesh didn't look like it could be saved. Somehow, it looked a lot worse than it felt.
,,Ugh. I'm never ever going to climb a wall again during wartime." The Breton muttered as he staggered to his feet. The archers up on the wall were too busy holding back the enemy to notice what had happened. Flint wiped the blood from his face again.
,,Ok, legs hurt, but still functional. Right hand, not recognizable as a hand anymore. Head, big bump on the back, gash at the front. Glass got split like paper. Ugh...swordslash? Oh, this is not good." He thought.

He looked around him. There was something off to his right, with what looked like a formless lump of golden scales in the center. The end result of the Aleatoire's victim. Just beyond it, there were the fallen defenders, some of which had rolled down after he'd fired that telekinetic blast. One form he felt he recognized.
,,Green-Root....Damn...Damn you. You just had to do a heroic sacrifice, didn't you? Damn you. I hope you enjoyed your moment of glory." He spat. Another snakeman reached the top of the breach. Flint struck it down with a telekinetic needle without giving it any further thought. He then turned and began to move to the assembly point, leaning on the walls of the buildings he passed. He was beginning to feel lightheaded.
,,Not a good sign. The wall won't hold much longer once those snakes get enough people across to flank the archers. I should warn some melee-fighters." He knew. He felt oddly unconcerned, however.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 21 2007, 09:17 PM

[Priest of Sithis]

Mannimarco's Soul, Oblivion

...whispers.....agony.....nothing....

The river was apparent. It was just within his reach. He could see all the souls of the snakemen floating down and coming to rest at the pinnacle of torment. Agony was every millisecond here, every thought evoked enough pain to tear open his soul, only to have it reformed by cackling dremora. He was chained by a magic he knew nothing about, but he quickly dismissed the notion of escape. The dremora could see every ounce of Mannimarco's soul, every synapse firing, every thought coming into being. Total defeat loomed overhead, and a dread feeling expanded in Mannimarco's inner mind. The Lord of Pain was approaching. The dremora given rights to this particular part of Oblivion, and apparently the second in command to Lord Dagon. Mannimarco felt himself fade, felt his soul loose its ethereal glimmer, felt diminished. That was the worst torment they could inflict on the soul, bringing it close to annihilation. As long as magic flourished, souls could not be destroyed, however, they could become broken down into magic itself, a dark idiom taught to Mannimarco by the Sload people. Mannimarco stopped thinking and awaited the Lord of Pain.

All Mannimarco could focus on was the river of magic streaming into oblivion, providing transport to those deemed worthy of Oblivion's agonies. What confused Mannimarco was the small breaks in the stream, small holes in the bluish tint above oblivion's tortured sky. Mannimarco realized these were the vampires and other immortals that are no longer ravaged by time. Mannimarco lost focus again and dimmed.

When he refocused, and brightened, a strange sight approached him. Orgnum of Pyandonea approached him. Mannimarco had heard rumors of this ancient king of the Maormi, but Mannimarco quickly dismissed all thought, preparing for an attack from the Lord of Pain. "Necromancer," Orgnum whispered. "Nercomancer." The voice rippled across Mannimarco's soul, sending ripples throughout his spirit. The voice was every conceivable pitch, and Mannimarco lost focus many times before mustering enough will to stand against this foreigner.

"Necromancer" Orgnum crooned, "I have been trapped here since the 110 tenth year of the Summerset's Third Era. I cannot leave, for i was so utterly destroyed that my soul cannot accept another physical form. I was given free roam among Oblivion, for Lord Dagon found my situation amusing. I can set you free from these bonds, however, you must find your own way out." Orgnum had no conceivable features, but Mannimarco knew, somehow, he knew.

"Mannimarco," Orgnum said. "You are now free from these Eternal Bonds. Take this wisdom of my Maormi and send souls for me to torment." Mannimarco felt all his ancient memories and deeds return to him, as well as the memories of Orgnum and the exotic country of Pyandonea. The last memory shocked Mannimarco. An Akaviri Dragon descending from the stormclouds hovering over a fleet of ships. Psijic casters appeared on the shore, and then the memories ended.

Mannimarco saw the dremora approaching and Orgnum turned them away with his unique voice. Mannimarco remebered from before how to access the stream of magic, and the pull of Oblivion seemed to lessen. As he ascended through the broken sky, a small tug made him turn. The face of Lord Dagon appeared level with Mannimarco's own. Mannimarco made no sound, and did not move, he lost all thought of who he was or what he did; the only thing in his mind was the hideous face of Lord Dagon.

A voice that shook like thunder said, "You may leave Necromancer, but take this gift from me." Lord Dagon's small fingernail etched a rune onto Mannimarco's forehead. "Each soul you send here will bring you great joy, but if you are somehow killed, you will be annihilated. Even the Aedra could not save you." And with that Mannimarco was cast into the river of Magic, coursing through the river in utter darkness. Mannimarco found the small cave where he grew as a boy in the first Era, and dove into Mundus. Instantly he felt the tug on his forehead, a constant nagging to remind him where he was bound. A small whisper he couldn't make out continued in his mind. Mannimarco searched the long grassy fields outside the cave for a sentient life form, and to his surprise, he found three.

Mannimarco's soul only need to be stronger than the subdued to control the body, then he could rid the body of the previous owners' soul and restore himself. The three were small dunmer, and through magical manipulation Mannimarco overheard their conversation as they sat around a small campfire. He made out their names and where they were from.

Synasus, the father, and his two sons, Logothos and Etholos. Mannimarco shone with magical energy, as he realized who these people where and exactly what it meant to the Necromancer. He subdued the father and controlled him. The King of Worms has returned.

Near the campfire

A small child was picking apples when she squeezed one and it exploded, worms wriggling everywhere and throughout. She said, "Rotten apple," and tossed it aside. Then she realized the whole orchard's apples were turning brown. The little girl ran inside her little cottage and sought the comfort of her mother. The mother looked at her orchard, and then screamed aloud. She knew this omen, her husband had been assigned to a Battalion of soldiers sent to fight a man with "Lordship over worms" or something like that. She fell to her knees and cried with her daughter.