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Unexpected Rescue - Eileen the Crow - 01-06-2015
The night passed slowly after that painful battle with the strange, savage figures that had attacked the Chosen. He hadn't done much with the bodies, just dumped them back in his little alcove, as what few snowflakes as could drifted down from the open sky. He had simply left them there, and then sat in the approach to it, leaning against the wall and feeling rather...well sore. He had three rents in his armor from the fight, one in his back, and two at the front, and his helmet had been seriously dented from multiple blows to it. How he missed the bonfire, or his estus flask. In fact, he had actually tried to make the latter as the night passed and found himself strangely...unable. He did not know why he could not make it, only that he knew that he couldn't. Yet, as the night passed, as the long, cold hours passed, his pains lessened somewhat, his armor even mended itself! By the time the morning arrived, the stab in his back was gone, and his armor had only a small dent, and one of the holes in his front was completely gone! He still had a light gash on his ribs from where he had taken an axe and then a spear in the same spot, and there was still a minor rent in his armor, but still!
When the morning arrived he felt oddly rejuvenated, still a bit sore true, but he had dealt with worse pain. Blight town stood as a magnificent example considering he had spent most of his time in that place either poisoned, or very badly poisoned, neither of which were pleasant sensations. So he set out, and the morning was even pleasant. It was still terrifically cold, to the point where he had frost lining his armor, but cold was not a threat. He...wasn't really alive after all, as long as he could move, it was of no concern to him. There was fresh snow on the ground of course, and any tracks from last night were long gone. It was crisp and clean powder too, that crunched under his metal boots as he started off. The mountains soared up into the cloudy sky, surrounding him on all sides as he progressed. Where he was going he still didn't know, the giant had been lost, he had no chance of tracking the one surviving troll, so really his only option was to continue onwards. His path took him down another hillside, and then right back up a different one, he had to edge along ledges on canyon walls, and even outright scale one! Just how far had he even gone since he'd found himself in this strange realm? Miles at least, but he knew there were communities here, at the very least primitive tribes, whether of those odd giants, or the strange, spear wielding humanoids that had attacked him. What he would do when he found either given the hostile reception...well he wasn't really sure.
Hours passed, the sun rising up through the clouds, visible as a dull, bright spot in the cloud cover. The Chosen Undead made steady progress, now in a warren of cliffs, practically a maze. Some towered taller than others, great slabs of rock with crevasses and protrusions great for climbing. Others were smoother, or even covered in a hefty layer of ice that prohibited such activity. Sometimes they came in 'layers' where in a cliff face led down to a wide ledge, that gave away a meter or so later to another cliff that led to another ledge that finally led to the canyon bottom. Sometimes, there were higher canyons, where two cliffs sandwiched a path between them, requiring one to walk all the way through or climb up one of the walls to be able to see or access the lower paths. Some of the canyons had sweeping, rushing rivers with rocks churning them to froth, in some places the surface of the river was completely frozen, and it split and diverged over many areas. Treacherous terrain at the best of times, where a wrong step could dislodge ice or send one slipping down the canyon paths. It could either be a short fall or a long one, landing in soft snow or hard rock, or if you were particularly unlucky, the rushing, rolling river of freezing cold ice. All in all, probably comparable to some of the more treacherous areas the Chosen had been through, like those rafters in that massive cathedral. So, he took his time and moved carefully over the canyons. His sword was sheathed with his shield strapped to his back. Gauntlet covered fingers would grip handholds while feet searched delicately for new places to step. His metal covered body stayed to the center of paths, or pressed up to cold cliff faces as he traversed them, and the river was avoided whenever possible, and progress slowed down significantly.
Once again he was alone, although he was still watchful, there were at least two threats that he knew of now, and he was willing to bet there were still more he had yet to even see. Yet, for once it seemed he was going to get the drop on his enemies for once. For, as he advanced along a cliff edge, he caught the sound of talking, born along the wind. Gruff, guttural voices, somewhere near him. The fact that they were talking meant they had yet to realize he was here, but he would show them soon enough, that was for certain.
Re: Unexpected Rescue - Eileen the Crow - 01-14-2015
His mind thought over carefully as he listened to those two voices, it was hard to get an exact fix on where they were coming from in this place, he just knew they were somewhere on the other side of the cliff he was on. So, he needed to figure out where, and not being a fan of having the low ground, he figured that at the very least he could do that from the top of this cliff. So, he turned and started climbing. Hands and feet that had been climbing these places for hours now, easily scaled this wall, fingers sinking into cracks to heft him up, booted feet searching carefully for the tiniest of ledges and protrusions, and swiftly he found himself heading up the wall. Higher and higher he went, until in just a few short minutes, he was able to get to the top, climbing up to the snow covered top of the narrow cliff. Naturally given this current maze of rocks, canyons, and cliffs, it only went forward a few meters before sloping down to another chasm, but it gave him a good view of his surroundings, at least, the surroundings that weren't higher than this particular cliff.
He could also hear the trolls better, his body sidling through the snow, hands moving him carefully as he just scooped it over himself to better hide the glare of his shiny metal helmet. It was absolutely, utterly freezing! Sure, he wasn't in any danger of dying from the cold, he was sort of dead already, but he could still feel the cold. Still it made him harder to notice, and ice was every bit as shiny and reflective as his metal, it would fail under close scrutiny, but it might fool a casual glance or sweep. Then, he went still, and listened, there was the grumbling of their voices, now he just had to spot them, he looked down over the cliff he was laying on...and there they were. They were dressed similarly to the creatures that had attacked him last night, with spears and axes to boot. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but they were traveling along the ledge of the cliff, very sure footed too. More interesting was that they weren't heading towards his position, but were heading away, walking along the curve of the cliff to keep heading further away, where they were going, the Chosen had no idea. However, he did not exactly have an end goal himself, so wherever they were going, it would provide him more of a baseline than just aimlessly wandering. So, while it would be dangerous, and perhaps very, very foolish, he was going to follow them...he just wanted one little extra thing first. Carefully he sidled backwards, sliding back down the cliff face he had come from, until he was back on that original ledge.
Once that was done, he put his hand out, and focused. Once more he reached into that strange wellspring of unfathomable power, drawing it forth. Rainbow light shimmered and danced through the air, coalescing into a great bubble, larger than any of the others before had been until now. It shimmered and rippled, dancing through the colors of light, before it started to stretch and elongate. IT grew wide, wider than the Chosen was tall, until, with a flash it formed itself. The item he had conjured was a bow, but a truly massive one. It was thick, and made of no mere wood, it was taller than he was, by a good foot in fact, with a drawstring that seemed like it was actual steel thread, if such a thing were even possible. With it, was a quiver, something that could hand and bang along one's thigh, even if it was nearly three feet long. This, was one of the ultimate weapons of Gwyn's empire, the Dragon Slayer's Greatbow. It was an immensely difficult weapon to draw back and fire, but the sheer damage the spears it fired could do, made it more than worth it. So armed, he attached the quiver, which draped along his left thigh past his knee, and slung the bow over his back, the string pressing against his chest, as he started back up the cliff. He had trolls to follow!
Re: Unexpected Rescue - Eileen the Crow - 01-25-2015
From the tops of the cliffs, and with great bow slung on, the Chosen began his hunt. The trolls were not too hard to follow fortunately, they did not seem to think they were at any risk. Judging by the casual way they were walking and talking at least. The Chosen himself moved as carefully as he could, creeping along the cliffs, at times even crawling along slowly through the snow when there were not shadows or cliffs to press himself against. Stealth was truly not his specialty, but he did know about it, Lordran had given him quite the variance in skills. Still, it was enough to tail the trolls, staying at a good distance and following their voices over the cliffs and canyons. Already following them was starting to pay off though, it seemed like the labyrinth of cliffs was starting to reach its end, getting more straight forward, simpler. The rifts were growing wider, and when he looked ahead, he thought he just might be able to see its end, and wouldn't you know it, he was right.
Other voices started to fill the air, gruff and guttural, more trolls...and a lot of them from the sounds of it. Still, the Chosen kept going, was this a small encampment, an actual village? He still needed to see more before he could determine, and so he kept sidling forward. As he had followed the trolls, the cliffs he had been traversing got higher, sloping upwards more and more, so he was rather high off the ground, well higher than the first set. As such, he got an excellent view when he moved to the edge, to examine this next area. It was a large circular valley, closer to ovular. The walls of the cliff surrounded it, sloping around to close on the other side, although it looked like there might be paths one could climb on the other side. It was a good few dozen meters down, and rather rocky, so it was hard to tell. Naturally there was an entrance into that maze of canyons and cliffs that the two trolls the Chosen had been following emerged from as well. The camp, and it was a camp, consisted of several tents set up in a circular formation, around a large, crackling fire. There were four posts set up around that fire too, close enough that whoever was attached wouldn't freeze to death. On each post was one figure, they were short and stocky, having an impressive bulk to them. They looked human, well more human than the trolls at least, just oddly short.
Prisoners, whatever encampment the Chosen had stumbled across it had prisoners. It was quite possible that every group in this place was hostile, but there was still a chance that someone might be willing to talk and explain a few things to the Chosen. The question now was if he could actually even figure out a way to rescue these four strange figures. So, still laying down upon the cliff, with just his helmeted, snow covered head peeking out, he did a head count. It was hard to say for sure, there was a possibility that a few were sleeping in the tents after all, but on a first count he got a good eleven trolls, throw in say, four that might be sleeping and call it fifteen. It could be more, could be less, either way, that was a...sticky situation. Just seven, in a location where numbers were harder to take advantage of had done a number on him. His chest still ached from the spears he had taken. Was this to much for him? He wasn't sure yet, so he sidled back, resting there in the snow, to think, and plan.
Re: Unexpected Rescue - Eileen the Crow - 02-11-2015
The sun passed overhead, slowly traversing across the jagged, mountain filled sky as he plotted and remained hidden. Fortunately the trolls watchers and patrols didn't take them up to the ledges that surrounded their camp, it seemed they figured that anyone up there should be easily visible. After all, who would crawl through the snow and then never stand up? They'd freeze to death! Well they would if they were alive to begin with, of all the threats the Chosen Undead had dealt with, freezing cold really wasn't that much of a worry to him. So he waited and planned, a good solid strategy forming in his mind, along with occasional, careful peeks to survey the camp and its prisoners again. They seemed to be settling in for the night with the setting sun, a roaring fire starting, and they weren't butchering any of the prisoners, although they did beat one of them rather severely before tying him back to the post. Yet other than that, they roasted some giant meaty thing on the fire, ate, laughed, two of them got into a fight, and the night wore on, darkness settling over the frozen, ice covered mountains. It shrouded the cliffs, and removed the tell-tale shine of sun on armor that the Chosen had had to be so wary of. Now was the time of silence and stealth, which to be honest, a man clad head to toe in plate wasn't the most suited for, but he would manage, he just had to take it slow and smart.
So, he at last stood up, and the dragon slayer's greatbow came off his back. He placed the bottom, which ended in a small spike for planting in the ground, right on the cliff face, and spread his legs, making sure he wasn't on anything too slick. Fortunately there was a wall behind him, it meant he couldn't fall off a ledge, but if he wasn't careful he could crash into the wall rather loudly...not that the snap of his bowstring wouldn't be loud enough. The greatbow was taller than he was, the metallic weapon sticking a good foot higher than his head. It also had a quiver on his hip, full of arrows that seemed more like....well short spears. Each 'arrow' was almost four feet long, metal, with the head actually a good half a foot of length. The tips were lance points, they flared out and then narrowed down into sharp, chisel like tips, they were made to pierce through even the toughest of armors, in fact they were made to pierce the tough, scaly hides of dragons. He figured it would work well at taking down these strange, violent creatures. So, he drew one of those great arrows from the quiver on his hip and put it in place, pulling it back, drawing on the bowstring with a great pull. It took great strength to wield the dragon slayer's greatbow, and though the Chosen had wielded it for quite some time, he still had difficulty pulling the string back with a quiet, slow creak, his body braced for the release. The crackling fire, and a few torches scattered about the camp provided illumination, flickering light and shadows. It didn't reach to his cliff face, but it didn't need to. He needed to aim fast though, keeping this drawn back was a real strain on one's body!
His eyes searched, head tilting as he sought out the troll closest to his cliff that he could see. He wanted those closest down first, he wasn't going to get too many shots with how hard it was to draw the string of this bow back. Soon, the undead warrior spotted his target, a troll on the edge of the camp, close to him, he was crawling out of his tent...probably going to take a piss, but he'd get something else instead. The knight aimed carefully, and then released his grip on the arrow. Immediately there was a thwack as the string slammed forward, hitting his gauntlet, it would likely sheer someone's skin right off if they didn't have a good bracer! At the same time the force of the arrow getting sent forward actually sent the Chosen skidding back, narrowly avoiding hitting the cliff wall, he had been just far enough away from it! However, the trolls would still know something was going on. The arrow slammed into his target, not quite center, but slightly above, just below the neck. There's a sickening crack, and then a heavy thud as the troll slams back into the ground, actually skidding half back into his tent, legs sticking out and not moving. It wasn't...incredibly loud, but it had been noticed, and another troll was heading to the sound to investigate. So, the Chosen pulled another arrow back, straining at it as he took a few steps forward and aimed. He released again and this time the arrow took the troll in the shoulder, the heavy impact causing him to spin several times before landing hard, the impact stealing this troll's breath as well to keep him from crying out.
The Chosen Undead drew another arrow back, as he realized that the troll wasn't dead, and was weakly trying to get up, he let loose another arrow and this one took the troll in the back...but others were hearing the heavy impacts now. In fact, one of them looked out of a tent and saw the arrow land in his compatriot's back, and let out a loud, howling bellow to rouse the rest of the camp!
Re: Unexpected Rescue - Eileen the Crow - 02-19-2015
The camp was alerted now, and the other trolls were scrabbling out of the tents, and if this was all of them, well he had been off slightly, counting the two he had just taken down there was a good sixteen moving already. That was a lot, but for now he remained calm, focused and once more stepped forward, drew back on the dragonslayer's greatbow, and let loose. A series of actions that took several seconds of straining. He was rewarded though as another troll went down, the arrow slamming through the beast's ribcage as spears and axes were grabbed and held over heads, the trolls starting to rush towards the wall the Chosen Undead was perched upon. Did he have time for another shot? The corpse's question was answered swiftly, with a slightly off aim spear slamming into the wall of the cliff next to his head, sending up a spray of ice chips that clattered on his helm. With the question answered, he slung the bow over his back again and took off to his right, heading back towards the labyrinth of canyons and chasms that the camp was set right up against, the bellowing of the trolls sounding up towards him as they started to scale the cliffs themselves. He could vaguely hear another voice barking more firmly, words although he couldn't make them out. Some kind of commander? There might well be a few trolls remaining behind to keep guard of the camp, something to keep in mind.
For now his course was unchanged, he ran forward, and then jumped, hurtling over a canyon and landing on the other side, his knees bending as his hands flew out, gauntlets hitting the snow as he stopped himself. Then, he quickly slid forward, sliding down the cliff face and onto another ledge, his back against it. Now was the tricky part, losing the trolls in the maze and then circling back around to get the strange men out of the camp before they realized what was going on, and killing any guards still there in the process. So, he got to moving, edging along the ledge as quickly as he could, before sliding down another layer just for sure, he was now on the bottom of this rift, and quickly moved forward. He wanted to run, but that would likely give away his position...and then he heard the trolls moving above him, edging along the ledges. Slowly the Chosen Undead kept moving, hearing sounds of striking above him, before torchlight lit the ledges over there, and others started drifting down from other pathways in the maze. Fortunately, no one looked down, and he quickly slipped into another crevice, waiting silently to see if any had heard the scrape of his armor on the stone. None seemed to as they kept moving, and he waited, waited until the light passed above him, before sliding out and continuing onwards. It was good that they had lights, it meant he couldn't turn a corner and immediately be face to face with one. He still had to hide in case they were coming down the same corridor as him, but ultimately, he was able to find his way around them without too much issue. At last, he was back near the camp, moving over the cliff again.
The Chosen Undead looked over it carefully, there were indeed still guards down there. Three of them to be precise, one of them by the fire and the four short men. Now was the time to go then. The Chosen Undead pulled himself up onto the cliff properly and began moving carefully in that crawl again, moving to the wall once more before standing up. Again he drew up the Dragon Slayer's Great Bow and pulled forth an arrow from the quiver. Yet, as he was drawing the great string back, his left side to the cliff face, there came a whirling, before something solid and heavy slammed into his back! He went sprawling, the armored zombie falling forward, the arrow falling from his hands as he slid down the wall, plummeting hard into the snow with a heavy thump. He groaned, the great bow having fallen several feet away from him. He started to push himself up, before he heard the rattling of stones down the side, and without thinking he threw himself to the side, pushing hard as he rolled across the snow, getting his feet under him thanks to great practice at rolling, ending up in a crouch. In front of him, a large, brutish troll, twin tusks curling up almost to his eyes, was knelt on the ground, an axe slammed into the snow where the Chosen had just been laying. He pulled his axe up with a growl, a wicked thing with a spike on the opposite side of the gleaming half moon blade, a step up from the axes the other trolls had seemed to have. He also had chain visible under his furred clothing, better armored and better equipped, some kind of leader? Perhaps a champion, either way the Chosen drew his straight sword and slung his shield onto his arm, holding it up defensively, the gleaming blade held out to his side.
Naturally the other trolls had heard this clatter and come over, all three of them, but the tusked brute waved them off, it seemed he wanted the Chosen Undead for himself. That was a refreshing change of pace, he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't had to face everyone he could see at once. The troll meanwhile stepped to the left, and pulled from the snow a second gleaming, half moon axe...that must be what had slammed into the Chosen's back. At least it hadn't hit hard enough to break his armor, just put a dent in it, a dent he could feel poking into his withered back right now actually. It wouldn't hinder his fighting though, he had fought with worse injuries after all. For now it was time to face this brute down, the Chosen Undead stepping forward while his opponent did the same. The first exchange was, as usual, a quick test of the other's reflexes and stance. The Chosen made a quick thrust with his straight sword, which was batted aside by an axe, while the other swung towards his head, hitting the silver shield and glancing off. The other axe came in for another strike, but the Chosen caught it on his blade, ramming the crossguard into the side in what was both a block and an attempt to ram the tip of his sword into the troll's opposite shoulder. Yet, the troll twisted to the side, pulling his axe down to shift the sword with it, an attempt to put the Chosen off balance. However, the zombie refused to go along and dragged his sword back, the rasp of steel on steel ringing out, before it crested the axe and swung up in a slash towards the troll's throat, who quickly leaped back, nimbly avoiding the strike.
Both fighters began to circle around each other, each having a more wary, respectful posture as they regarded each other. Outside their little fight, the other three trolls were slapping spears to chests in a soft drumming sound to punctuate the duel that was taking place here. The troll made the next move, stepping forward as his axe came down, grip rotated so that the spike on the other side was coming down. The intention was clear, for the Chosen to block so that he could use the spike to rip it downwards and hammer in with the other axe. The obvious counter was clear as well, to meet this with sword instead of shield, to bat and then reverse for a stroke across the chest, but the troll was prepared for that, and besides, there was one specific maneuver the Chosen used, that so many opponents had been unprepared for during his time in Lordran. He brought his shield up, the spike slammed past it, and the troll ripped it down, his shield going with it. Yet instead of stumbling, the Chosen stepped forward with the pull, as his right leg lifted up off the ground. It lifted up and then pushed out, a heavy booted foot slamming into the troll's stomach! The brute stumbled back in surprise, a gasp of exhaled air escaping from the solid blow, but immediately the Chosen brought his boot back down and hurtled forward sword coming in for a hard thrust towards his chest!
His opponent was able to recover in time, sweeping the blade aside with a quick movement of his axe, but the Chosen just stepped forward again, this time his left arm came in, the shield hammering out to catch the brute in the face, right on the tusk! The axe wielder stumbled to the side from the hard blow, unprepared for the attack. The chosen just kept going though, his sword pulling back and thrusting again, and this time, it struck home. The blade pierced through mail and fur, cracking a rib as it pushed in, emerging out the other side by several inches as the troll's mouth dropped open in shock. Then the Chosen's left leg lifted pushing on his chest hard as he ripped his sword free of his chest, the troll dropping back onto the ground, weakly trying to get back up. Normally, the Chosen would quickly finish him off, but with that, the other three trolls had seen enough, there boots crackling on the snow as they suddenly charged towards him, bellowing! The swordsman whirled around just in time to catch the first spear on his shield, pushing it to the right with a quick step and turn. Immediately he brought his arm around in a hard slash, catching the troll in the chest, cleaving through his fur and flesh and scraping along his ribs before pulling free. It wasn't a lethal blow, but should buy him a bit of time as he then twisted his wrist to bring the sword back around to sweep the spear of the other troll aside, his left arm lashing out to slam the shield in a harsh bash on the third troll's face, knocking him onto his ass, before the Chosen turned and slammed the edge of the shield into the side of the second's head, toppling him down to the ground. Then he whirled, blade lashing out as the first troll was just getting up, not enough for a fatal blow but it opened a gash on his cheek, before he pulled his sword back and thrust through his throat, neatly piercing it before pulling back.
Once again he spun, his sword flying out to make sure no one was on him, but the other two trolls were only just getting up to their feet, so he rushed to one and brought his sword in, piercing his side before kicking and pulling. Then, he turned neatly, and swung his sword along, catching the other in the throat and letting him fall to the ground, ending them both. However, the other trolls in the labyrinth must have heard that initial bellowing, he needed to move, and fast!
Re: Unexpected Rescue - Eileen the Crow - 02-26-2015
The four short figures looked up as the Chosen came dashing into the camp, and what a sight to see. An ice covered man in metal, frost, snow and ice had crusted upon his heavy plate in places, making him crack slightly as he went into his full sprint. A long, straight blade in one hand, and a grooved, silver engraved shield in the other. He should probably explain, that was really the best thing to do but...ah, well, the Chosen Undead was not exactly the best at speaking...in fact he was kind of...mute. He was not sure if it was a result of being a zombie, if he had simply forgotten, or if he had just always been mute but...well...yeah, speaking was sort of out of the question. Instead, he just moved up to the strange men and moved behind them, quickly hacking through the ropes binding them to the posts. One by one the four short figures fell to the ground, thanks to being close to the fire, there wasn't much snow or ice, but they were still barely clad, just loincloths really as they rubbed sore wrists and ankles. One of them, a man with a big, bristling yellow beard, and matching hair, started barking orders...but the baying of trolls from the labyrinth was growing near. The yellow bearded man turned to the Chosen, "Ye've done us a great favor, and our gear's in the main troll's tent. I hate ta ask, but can ye keep the trolls off for a few more minutes. Shouldn' take us too long ta get outfitted."
Trolls...the strange, tusked creatures the Chosen had been fighting were called trolls. The name seemed oddly fitting somehow, still he had learned something new at least, and he nodded. Then, without another gesture, since there hadn't been a first word to begin with, he turned around, shield coming up as the first of the trolls emerged from the entrance to the maze of canyons. The four men were out of sight, in that main tent...probably the tent of that armored troll come to think of it. However, the Chosen put that out of his mind as the first of the trolls to appear threw his spear towards the armored fighter. Calmly, the zombie caught it on his shield, letting it bounce and slide off to hit the ground harmlessly. Then he stepped forward as the troll drew axe and sprinted the rest of the distance. Straight sword thrust towards the creature's chest, and was batted aside with the axe, before the troll brought it around in a slash towards his head. The shield came in again, catching it and forcing it to slide up over his head, while he brought the sword back around in a quick cut that dug through fur clothing and into the stomach, opening up a painful gash in the creature's side. While the creature roared in pain, the sword twisted, to turn the slash into a thrust that dove into the stomach and out the other side, before a swift kick pushed the creature off his blade, and just in time too, another two trolls were just behind him, rushing the Chosen Undead.
He met them both, shield blocking axe and sword deflecting spear. The swordsman gave ground despite the strong start, stepping backwards slowly and carefully as he deflected, diverted, blocked and clashed with the two trolls. They were skilled, and knew how to fight with each other, forcing him back as he waited patiently for the opportunity he needed, but he didn't exactly have an abundance of time, as more trolls were starting to return from the maze, this could get very ugly, and very fast. A third troll was bearing down to join the first two, and a fourth behind that, and a fifth and sixth. He backed up quicker, the Chosen now seeking a way to try and bolt for a more advantageous position, but, as he moved to pull back, something went spinning through the air to take one of the trolls in the thigh, making him cry out and fall, tripping into the ground. Startled the Chosen risked a look over his shoulder, and there were the four dwarves, now dressed in shining chain mail, well...shiny chain mail, and armed with large hammers and battleaxes! They charged the surprised trolls, and well, the Chosen wasn't about to let this opportunity go by!
He hurtled forward himself, and slammed his shield into one of the two trolls he had been fighting, knocking him on his rear with a solid blow. At the same time, his straight sword flew forward in a vicious thrust, the second troll stepping to the side and managing to avoid it, but he did not avoid the follow up slash. A quick turn of the wrist and a swing, and the sword went out to the side, carving through fur and stomach to spill his innards over the ground. Then, his arm pulled back and his sword thrust through the skull of the fallen troll. With this victory he did not stop to relish it but pulled free and leaped to battle. There were still many more trolls than Undead and dwarves, twelve of them at least! The Chosen and his newfound allies would have to work hard to still succeed in this battle. The dwarves themselves had split into pairs, to cover each other and keep the trolls from surrounding and cutting them off, but they would still use their superior numbers against the dwarves if allowed to. Fortunately the Chosen was not simply going to allow this to happen. He rushed forward, it was time to go on a hard offensive, in three groups like they were, two pairs and one zombie, the trolls could gang up in fours and outnumber them extremely, he had to cut them down to size before that happened! The straight sword lashed out immediately, and hit the haft of a spear as a troll blocked the cut, but he just stepped forward, pressing the weapons together as a metal knee slammed into his gut, doubling him over. Then, the blade slid free of the spear and the Chosen stepped around the troll, neatly thrusting a blade into his neck in the process, before he turned and brought his shield up, catching an axe upon the silvery surface, and thrusting beneath it, pushing the blade into a belly.
With a hard pull of his arm he cut through the belly and sent the troll sprawling onto his knees, but the other two had not been idle. He turned, but was too slow as an axe slammed into his helmet, staggering him as he stumbled to the side. The second immediately thrust for him, and a spear hit his chest, the hardened tip piercing his mail and plunging into the chest beneath. However, instead of falling, instead of dying like all the others who had suffered such painful injuries, like the trolls he had already cut down, the Chosen remained standing. Instead of falling, he groaned out, took a step back, but then his sword came back and down, and then he thrust forward, the sharp, hard tip hitting the troll and sliding into him, piercing through ribs and into his heart. Then, a quick tug pulled the blade free of him as he toppled backwards, and the knight’s left arm rose again, blocking the axe sweep of his enraged partner on that sturdy, reliable shield of his. Then he stepped forward, pushing shield and axe up, as his sword went down and thrust into his stomach, bringing down the fourth troll in a quick thrust, and then cut free. With himself currently clear for a moment, he quickly surveyed the situation, and it was quickly apparent who needed his help.
One pair of dwarves was still standing, managing to fend off their four trolls even if they hadn’t brought any of them down. The other pair though, one of the dwarves was down, so was a single troll, but that left three against one, terrible odds for anyone. Immediately he sprinted towards the group, his boots crunching across the snow, and was easily heard and spotted. One of the trolls turned to face him, and he just rammed into the tusked brute shield first. The both of them fell, but where the troll fell down, the Chosen rolled over him and up to his feet. Rolling was as natural as sprinting for this warrior, and he was almost immediately on one foot and a knee, before hurtling up and towards the other two trolls. One of them turned and brought his spear up, but the Chosen dove and went into another roll. Not only did he go into another combat roll, but of all the strange things, his speed seemed to increase dramatically, as if he could roll faster than he could run. He came up on a knee again, but right behind the other troll, who could not afford to turn his back on the dwarf, and did not have the time. The armored warrior came up, and his sword thrust straight into his back. A painful, vicious Backstab, and strangely enough, this one attack seemed to do far more harm to the opposing troll than his usual, skilled slashes and thrusts, perhaps hitting a more critical area from the vantage point, or simply a result of the strange workings of the Omniverse. Regardless, the troll went down, but a troll from the intact group of four was sprinting towards him now, and the first troll that he had simply tackled was getting up, as well as an attack coming in from the troll he had rolled past!
Yet, the Chosen was not fighting alone for once. As the troll’s axe came towards him, the sharp, gleaming blade of the dwarf rushed in and slammed into his knee, sending him sprawling forward, just to be finished off from an overhead swing from the dwarf, severing the troll’s very head! The two warriors exchanged a brief nod, before the Chosen turned to face the newcoming troll, while the dwarf turned to face the troll who had just picked himself up off the ground. Some might give credit to these beasts for having such courage when facing a warrior who had slain multiple of their fellows in a roll as a matter of course, but for the Chosen? It was typical. He could not remember the last time someone had tried to run from him that was not an invading spirit. Thus, the corpse did not even think about it, he just strode forward to meet the tusked brute, he caught the axe on his shield, slashed, thrust, and pulled free, and down the creature went. With the last group, two of the three trolls had gone down, and the last one was desperately fending off a tag team of two determined, bearded axemen, and soon he went down. The troll that had been picking itself up? Also down. A good fight, and at last over. One of the dwarves was down though, and the Chosen had taken a hit that would kill an ordinary man...and now that the rush of combat over, it kind of stung...a lot.
Still, he could deal with it, especially since it would recover with enough time, typically several hours. The fallen dwarf though? There was no saving him. The knight stood back, as the other three dwarves gathered around their comrade, one of them crouching down to check, and confirming that he was dead. The Chosen left them to their grief, keeping a watch in case any other trolls showed up, stepping a good distance away, and resting the tip of the straight sword in the ice as he watched over the maze of cliffs. He was not quite sure how long he stood there, but eventually he heard crunching bootsteps approaching him, and turned to face one of the dwarves, the body of their fallen comrade was gone, they must have buried him while he was keeping watch. “We’re finished...thank ye fer yer help, and consideration. Tell me stranger, what’s yer name?”
Ah, now here was a problem. The Chosen Undead shifted a bit, and then at last shrugged. An exaggerated gesture that brought his metal covered shoulders up. Then, after sheathing his sword, he pointed to his throat, and then shook his head, trying to make it clear that he couldn’t actually talk. Fortunately, the message seemed to get through, “Ah, ye can’ talk? Heh, ye must be new to tha Omniverse.” The what now? “Still, come along, we should get movin’, we can explain more later...if ye feel like travelin’ with us that is.” Now that seemed like a grand idea to the Chosen Undead. A way to get answers, information, and battle companions rather than wandering ignorant, and without help or aid of any kind! He quickly nodded his agreement, and after a few moments for the dwarves to look through the remains of the camp for useful items, the three dwarves and the metal clad corpse set off. According to the dwarf, who had named himself Gilnor, they were heading to a village not too far from here, a village, and not one that was full of hollowed freaks and zombies! The Chosen could hardly imagine the idea, but he was quite looking forward to it. He was finally getting somewhere!