12-12-2014, 02:20 PM
Figures encroached upon the small nook that the Chosen had tucked himself into, figures drawn by the flickering firelight that radiated out from this small roofless cave. There were about seven of them all told, a small hunting party, a small scouting party, capable of raiding, hunting or whatever else was needed. The figures were tall, the smallest just over six feet, with long, thick limbs, they each had a number of spears strapped to their backs, as well as axes at their hips, three of the figures had a spear off the little rack and held in their hands. The light of the fire blinded the Chosen, he was facing towards the exit of his little 'cave' but the fire made it impossible to see anything that stood outside the firelight, outside the entrance, but peering inside. They could see the corpse though, see him resting in front of the fire, they looked at each other, and one of the spearholders nodded. He hefted his spear and drew his arm back, boots planted as he tensed himself, and then cast the spear! The long weapon, four feet of wooden haft, and half a foot of shining, polished metal, soared through the air, and the Chosen didn't even see what hit him.
He saw a glitter of metal, and then the spear flew through his bonfire, and slammed into his helmet. There was a loud, metallic clang as he fell backwards, sliding along the damp stone, a loud, ugly scraping rising as his plate mail scraped on the stone. The chosen himself was seeing stars but, that had been an attack! He had been attacked while resting at a...no, not an actual bonfire, it was just a fake, an imitation he had created, and he had let it lower his guard! The metal clad figure surged back up to his feet, right hand rushing to the hilt of his straight sword, in time to see three of the trolls rushing into his little shelter, axes drawn and whooping as they closed in on him, clad in furs and leather! The first one came around his fire and let out a whooping growl, his axe coming down for a hard strike, a strike that was deflected with the straight sword. The two weapons clashed as the Chosen's left hand lashed out, curled into a tight metal fist. It struck the troll straight on and sent him staggering back, but the other two were on the swordsman! His sword flashed quickly, both hands gripping it. His shield was on his back, he didn't have the time to grab it, and so he two handed the straight sword for extra speed and control. The undead's sword went left, batting one axe aside, just to swing down and right to deflect another, and then flicking left to deflect another swing.
These trolls were much faster than the giants, that was for sure, faster and more skilled, the Chosen was being pressed back to the wall, forced to give ground as the clang of sword on axe filled the air. Yet, there was a third, who was standing up after the hard hook he'd been given. He came in from the Chosen's left, rushing to aid his friend, axe coming in high! The swordsman didn't have the time or speed to block three axes at once, he was being pushed to the limits of his skill just fending off two axes, he had to do something, and fast! Fortunately, fast thinking was something that got hammered into your head quickly in Lordran. So he did the only thing he could think of with his back to the wall, two trolls in front of him and one coming to his left. He slammed himself left. His sword flew right to deflect one last axe stroke and to push his shoulder forward, so that when he dove left, his shoulder would slam right into the troll's chest. It worked rather well. He slammed into the troll, and pushed it backwards, he wasn't the strongest, but he was strong, and was able to shove it back, avoiding the axes of his friends. Then, he stopped as the third troll staggered backwards from the push, trying to get his balance back. The beast wouldn't need to worry for long as the Chosen whipped his sword around, and cut into his neck. He didn't quite sever his foe's head, but he definitely cut through his throat! The troll's hands dropped the axe and went to the severed throat, but the others had recovered.
A heavy axe blade slammed into the back of the Chosen's head, sending him sprawling forward, hitting the stone ground hard, his shoulder thudding into the body of the troll he had managed to slay. He quickly moved to get up, but not before a heavy boot pressed down on his back, pushing him back down onto the ground. That wasn't good, he twisted his head, craning to peer over his shoulder, to see the troll lifting his axe, intending to bring it down on his helm as hard as possible to try and stave in his helm or even split his skull! The axe rose higher, and as it rose the Chosen's mind raced. If he didn't move now he'd be dead!
He saw a glitter of metal, and then the spear flew through his bonfire, and slammed into his helmet. There was a loud, metallic clang as he fell backwards, sliding along the damp stone, a loud, ugly scraping rising as his plate mail scraped on the stone. The chosen himself was seeing stars but, that had been an attack! He had been attacked while resting at a...no, not an actual bonfire, it was just a fake, an imitation he had created, and he had let it lower his guard! The metal clad figure surged back up to his feet, right hand rushing to the hilt of his straight sword, in time to see three of the trolls rushing into his little shelter, axes drawn and whooping as they closed in on him, clad in furs and leather! The first one came around his fire and let out a whooping growl, his axe coming down for a hard strike, a strike that was deflected with the straight sword. The two weapons clashed as the Chosen's left hand lashed out, curled into a tight metal fist. It struck the troll straight on and sent him staggering back, but the other two were on the swordsman! His sword flashed quickly, both hands gripping it. His shield was on his back, he didn't have the time to grab it, and so he two handed the straight sword for extra speed and control. The undead's sword went left, batting one axe aside, just to swing down and right to deflect another, and then flicking left to deflect another swing.
These trolls were much faster than the giants, that was for sure, faster and more skilled, the Chosen was being pressed back to the wall, forced to give ground as the clang of sword on axe filled the air. Yet, there was a third, who was standing up after the hard hook he'd been given. He came in from the Chosen's left, rushing to aid his friend, axe coming in high! The swordsman didn't have the time or speed to block three axes at once, he was being pushed to the limits of his skill just fending off two axes, he had to do something, and fast! Fortunately, fast thinking was something that got hammered into your head quickly in Lordran. So he did the only thing he could think of with his back to the wall, two trolls in front of him and one coming to his left. He slammed himself left. His sword flew right to deflect one last axe stroke and to push his shoulder forward, so that when he dove left, his shoulder would slam right into the troll's chest. It worked rather well. He slammed into the troll, and pushed it backwards, he wasn't the strongest, but he was strong, and was able to shove it back, avoiding the axes of his friends. Then, he stopped as the third troll staggered backwards from the push, trying to get his balance back. The beast wouldn't need to worry for long as the Chosen whipped his sword around, and cut into his neck. He didn't quite sever his foe's head, but he definitely cut through his throat! The troll's hands dropped the axe and went to the severed throat, but the others had recovered.
A heavy axe blade slammed into the back of the Chosen's head, sending him sprawling forward, hitting the stone ground hard, his shoulder thudding into the body of the troll he had managed to slay. He quickly moved to get up, but not before a heavy boot pressed down on his back, pushing him back down onto the ground. That wasn't good, he twisted his head, craning to peer over his shoulder, to see the troll lifting his axe, intending to bring it down on his helm as hard as possible to try and stave in his helm or even split his skull! The axe rose higher, and as it rose the Chosen's mind raced. If he didn't move now he'd be dead!