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The Ghostfence rp: Playground 2 |
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bbqplatypus |
Jun 6 2009, 08:00 AM
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Finder
Joined: 12-July 08
From: The Double Deuce
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Apelles Velvus
Apelles charged head-on into the fray, locking weapons with a lean, muscular Dunmer with a steel shortsword. He used his broadsword's longer reach to his advantage, but this Ashlander was fast, and good with his shortblade. He parried and deflected Appelles's blows with the grace of a young, yet experienced fighter. Apparently, Apelles had picked a fight with the best swordsman of the group.
The cravaners fought more competently than he had expected. Out of the corner of his eye, Apelles could see Dranas Heleran slicing straight through the torso of one of them. Not bad for a common drug dealer.
This fight, too, was an atypical one. In Apelles's experience, most swordfights were brutal, inelegant, and over very quickly - one fighter gained an advantage over another (usually brought about by an opponent's mistake) and capitalized on it. But the Ashlander was simply moving too fast to leave enough of an opening for Apelles to exploit. And the Ashlander was too busy defending himself from the long reach of Apelles's broadsword to make an attack. There was a time, perhaps, as a younger man, when he might have been fast enough to exploit the brief, fleeting seams in the Dunmer's defense. But the reality was, he wasn't - he would need to rely on his experience and cunning.
Then, the Dunmer finally began to tire - Apelles could see it in his face, and in his slightly slowed movements. Suddenly, he abandoned his defense and made a desperate lunge for the torso. Apelles, surprised, stepped back. The blade barely even managed to penetrate part of the dragonscale armor that he wore. It was but a surface wound - and he had left himself exposed. Apelles plunged his broadsword through the Dunmer's back into his vital organs.
Apelles looked around. The Ashlanders on the ground were all dead. He sheathed his sword, grabbed his bow, and turned to face the remaining archers.
This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Sep 8 2010, 03:23 AM
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Dantrag |
Jun 6 2009, 06:11 PM
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Councilor
Joined: 13-February 05
From: The cellar of the fortress of the fuzz
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OOC: hope you guys don't mind that i left a few alive; it makes sense to me, and gets things going faster.
Dralas
Dralas was about to let off another arrow, but he held back. With the death of their comrades on the ground, both archers were abandoning their positions and opting to flee.
Dralas let them go; they wouldn't be a threat anymore. He hoped. With the danger gone, Dralas stood up straight and exhaled a great sigh of relief. Relief turned quickly to sadness though, when he looked at the dead on the ground. He sat down on the rock that was previously his cover, waiting for the adrenalin to subside.
"Talk about unexpected," he said to nobody in particular, lighting a hackle-lo. He knew that the caravan had likely gone too far to catch up to now, and didn't even consider it.
Might as well sit for a moment before we all try to walk to ghostgate by ourselves.
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"Its when murder is justice that martyrs are made"
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bbqplatypus |
Jun 7 2009, 09:00 AM
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Finder
Joined: 12-July 08
From: The Double Deuce
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Apelles Velvus
"I have my own, thanks," he half-grunted, pulling a small vial from within his belt. He'd be damned before he took another comestible substance of any kind from Dranas Heleran.
He raised his voice to call out to the rest of the group. "Anyone who doesn't is more than welcome to mine or his. Frankly, we're lucky we weren't all killed. We were fortunate to have been subjected to one of the most poorly-executed attacks I've ever witnessed. Rather surprising to see Ashlanders botch a raid so badly.
"The archers were well-hidden, but just far enough away so they couldn't shoot once their friends got close. That's the stupid part - they didn't need to get close; just block our path. If they'd stayed put inside the foyada and not gotten close, we wouldn't be standing here right now.
"They hadn't counted on us organizing ourselves so quickly - they probably expected us to panic and not try to fight back. They didn't think it mattered what they did. They thought we were weak. They broke Rule #1 of combat: never underestimate your opponent. They also counted on the archers annihilating us quickly. They didn't. But if that guar had died twenty feet closer to the edge of the foyada, they certainly would have. It was luck - luck and stupidity that kept us alive."
He wiped some of the blood off his sword. "We need to catch up with the caravan by nightfall. If we set up camp alone tonight, there's a good chance they'll attack us again. We have no way of knowing how many of them are left - there could be three, or thirteen, or thirty for all I know. And I can guarantee you they won't make the same mistakes they did this time. If they do come back, hey'll come back in bigger numbers - and better prepared to fight. Thanks to those two witnesses, they will know exactly how tough we are, and what our weaknesses might be. We wouldn't stand a chance."
In truth, he doubted that this would happen. The Ashlanders had been routed and demoralized. But he wasn't prepared to rule out the possibility entirely.
"We can make it to Assarnatamat about an hour after the caravan does if we double-time it the rest of the way. So I wouldn't nurse your wounds too long."
This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Sep 8 2010, 03:29 AM
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Dantrag |
Jun 7 2009, 05:29 PM
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Councilor
Joined: 13-February 05
From: The cellar of the fortress of the fuzz
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Dralas
Despite what Appelles said, Dralas didn't think that the ashlanders would be back. They were rogues, and not part of any official tribe. Rag-tag bands like that didn't have the numbers to spare. They had probably seen most, if not all of that particular group. Dralas knew all three of the archers, but none of the others that lay dead around them. The only explanation he could come up with was that the Shishara brothers were exiled, and joined a group of rogue ashlanders. The Erabenimsun wouldn't be found so far west anyway. Either way, in the world of the caravan, the escort was the authority, so Dralas held his tongue.
With no wounds of his own to lick, Dralas climbed up to where the archers had been to examine the body he'd killed. Up close, there was no doubt. This was indeed Musan Shishara. A few months ago, there were four Shishara brothers. As of now, there were now two dead by Dralas' hand. And two more out there.
But why were they exiled? Were they after me personally or was it coincidence?
He took Musan's quiver of arrows and his canteen. He would have buried the mer, but there was no time.
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"Its when murder is justice that martyrs are made"
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Dantrag |
Jun 25 2009, 02:30 AM
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Councilor
Joined: 13-February 05
From: The cellar of the fortress of the fuzz
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OOC: how fast are we trying to get to ghostgate? i think we should try to get there soon...
Dralas
As the flute played its melody, his thoughts drifted-- mostly towards the past. Back to a time where he and the Shishara brothers hunted together. Musan even saved his life once when they were young. They had accidentally stumbled on a kagouti's nest, and the mother kagouti was none too happy. Dralas remembered being cornered by a steep cliff, and closing his eyes tightly, fully expecting to die. If given another second, the kagouti would have impaled him, but Musan had shown up with an arrow just in time.
And I repaid the favor by killing him. he thought to himself bitterly. So much in life could change so quickly. The ironic thought crossed his mind that Musan had always been far better with a bow and arrow than he.
His mind snapped back to the present, and he stared at the ground. There were hundreds of footprints left by the men, mer, and guars ahead of them, but it was unnecessary to follow them. The foyada was the ashlander equivalent of a road, and it was one he'd seen often. Dralas predicted that it would be a fairly smooth journey from here, assuming his luck would leave him alone for a day or two.
Dralas found this leg of the trip more enjoyable than the previous. Traipsing around with the caravan seemed like living in a moving city, while traveling with a small group such as this was more to his liking.
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"Its when murder is justice that martyrs are made"
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