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Storyteller · 08-12-2015, 09:55 AM

The orcs thundered towards the group with murderous intent. They poured forth from the treeline, seemingly numerous. A hail of arrows blanketed the poor group of misfits, forcing them back against the walls of the ruined temple.

Bucky, the plucky B-1 droid shuffled backwards, greeting the orcs with a hail of blaster fire. A bright red fusillade of energy bolts carved into the oncoming green tide. His defective processor kicked into full gear and his robotic voice called out “Die Jedi Scum!” The insult fell on deaf ears as a particularly large orc bellowed a battlecry and chucked a brutishly large spear at the combat droid. The projectile collided with the robot’s left shoulder, forcing the clumsy droid to stumble backwards. A shower of sparks erupted from the injury and Bucky found his trusty left arm difficult to move.

The devastating echo of Mr. Clayton’s shotgun called out across the battlefield. He had taken a defensive position behind the other secondaries. The gentleman took great pleasure in what did not amount to much more than skeet shooting for him. His targets were too busy with their bloodthirsty charge to hide behind cover. Several arrows peppered the ground around him, but he took no mind to them firing once more into the crowd of greenskinned brutes. Another wave of arrows assaulted Clayton, forcing him to retreat back behind a waist-high stone wall. He did not escape unscathed, one of the arrows had found its mark along his right thigh, slicing a line of fire through his meaty flesh.

From the treeline Boer had been silently watching the commotion. The horde of orcs seemed to be endless and he wasn’t about to throw away his life trying to defend strangers. His voyeurism was interrupted by a sudden stinging sensation in his back. The beast-man whipped around to find a cackling cluster of goblins. The pernicious creatures wielded poison-tipped darts and had attempted to turn his back into a pincushion. “Why you little bastards” he bellowed, firing a rifle round into the nearest goblin. The creatures scattered into the underbrush, frightened from the imposing beast-man. Boer grunted in amusement as the skittish creatures seemingly made their escape. His joy was cut short as a hail of darts erupted from the foliage, forcing him to retreat into the clearing and subsequently into the battlefield.

Grave and Abner found themselves surrounded by a particularly vicious group of orcs. The brutes wielded all manner of crude and sinister weaponry, massive axes and bulky spears threatened the two secondaries. Grave wasted no time, firing round after round into the encroaching orcs, his relentless onslaught beat back the monstrous creatures. Abner followed Grave’s lead and fired his own pistol in between Grave’s withering gunfire. The warrior remained calm and collected, making sure each shot found its mark. The duo carved a path through the orcs and ran to rendezvous with the rest of the party. Their retreat was cut short by a barrage of poorly-aimed arrows.

An echoing roar was heard across the chaos of the battlefield. From the trees burst a massive forest troll. Its body was caked with dirt and moss and it clutched a large club in its meaty mitts. The beat roared with fury and charged forth towards the group. Klaud reacted quickly and with a flick of her wrist she wrapped her whip around the stampeding beast’s legs. The troll stumbled and fell to its knees, just barely catching itself before collapsing. Captain Crow took this opportunity to dart into the fray. With a dazzling display of speed he snaked between several orcs to strike at the troll. He slashed at the creature’s exposed sides and it roared in pain. Klaud did her best to keep the creature subdued, but with a mighty tub on her whip the troll pulled her close. The whip loosened and the troll lashed out, rushing to its feet and blindly swinging its club. The General and Captain were caught off-guard by the surprising burst of speed and both of them took a glancing blow from the club.

Meanwhile the resident zombie blindly charged towards a group of goblins. The small creatures scattered at the sight of the ravenous undead. Urg followed the closest one without hesitation, his simple mind unable to resist the allure of a chase. Eventually, with a half-hearted leap the zombie collapsed on the slippery creature. Its frightened shrieks were soon silenced by a sickening crunch as Urg began to feast. The battle raged around him, seemingly oblivious to the undead creature. When Urg’s belly was full the zombie stood up only to find that the little goblin had lodged a dagger into his chest.

Being experienced in combat against orcs Raw Onion took to the sky, knowing that they would have a hard time hitting her. She struck strategically, dive bombing key targets delivering vicious kicks to her unprepared foes. The archers shifted their attention to Raw Onion and began to pelt her with arrows. Her speed and agility kept her safe as she weaved in between arrows and spears. However a team of sneaky goblins had climbed the trees and sat in wait for a nasty nasty trap. The barrage of arrows forced the pegasis to fly close to the treeline and in that moment the goblins made their presence known. A large net was cast over her and she struggle to stay in the air. Raw Onion managed to steer herself back towards the ruins before crashing into the ground.

IRIS did its level best to try and avoid the heavy combat areas. In fact it managed to simply watch the fight from behind the safety of the others. The floating robot pressed as close to the ruins as possible, preferring to try and avoid the chaos of battle. Unfortunately a sneaky goblin had another idea. With a shrill battlecry the green imp leaped from the top of the ruins and came hurtling down, crashing into IRIS. The robot screeched “Do not touch me!” and shook violently to try and knock the goblin off. Unabated by IRIS’s thrashing the goblin tried to slash at the bot’s metal casing, finding a small chink in IRIS’s armor. Sparks flew as the goblin tried to pry apart the robot.

Stiel darted in between orc warrior’s taking opportunistic slashes and strikes against the clumsy brutes. He was relentless in his assault, striking down as many orcs as he could get near. Unfortunately Stiel’s attention-span got the better of him. His movements slowed as he watched Raw Onion get grounded. In his moment of innatention the forest troll had found its way over to the poor secondary. With a mighty blow the troll sent Stiel tumbling backwards, his only saving grace was his cybernetic armor.

Pinocchio froze when his nose was scraped by the point of a javelin-sized spear that would have surely taken off his head. The wooden boy dodged out of the way before he could become a shishkabob. As the spear dashed by him, a sliver of wood shot out from his nose. The wooden boy rolled out to the side and to an orc who had come in for the kill on the weakling, only to have the splinter stab the orc in the eye.

Rictoffen, in the meantime was closer to the border of tree and forestry. Upon first glance, no one was near. Upon a closer glance, an orc was behind him. He felt the creeping chill on his neck and raised a hand swiftly upward, accidentally hitting the orc square in the face, and knocking his attacker unconscious. After hearing the dense body hit the ground, the German spun around, shocked, and exclaimed his own surprise in his slurred accent, “Unz Orc?! Das right!” And pulled out his stylish pistol, ready to defend himself some more.

Zora flung them off of her one after the other, using her honed Zorojitsu techniques as guidance with every swing of motion. It seemed that all the talk of teaming up was largely an understatement, as the second arrows flew and warfare combed the area, most of the fights had become one-on-one.

Isaac was about to draw his own blood, when an orc tackled him to the ground. It snarled on top of him and went in for the killing blow. At the last second, the old veteran dodged his head and swiftly jerked upward, a jagged blade drew a crimson line on the side of his head, as the orc was thrown off of him. With only one arm it would be hard to pin the orc, who was right up on him, readying his next weapon - a long, freshly sharpened dagger - but before it could plunge into Isaac’s once-shot shoulder, a bullet fired into the orc’s skull and blood exploded everywhere on contact.

Christa winked at Isaac. “Old man, you’re getting sloppy.” It wasn’t his fault the orcs were faster than the majority of the group, the rebelled soldier smiled in reassurance and held her pistol in her grasp. Not faster than my Beretta.

Tooth shouts, “Tweet!” as she dodges an arrow.

Jan pulls out his M82 assault rifle and takes aim at the orc closest to him. The peppering shots echoed through the air as the blasting bursts take down the orc, with his stomach full of lead. Another closes in behind Jan, who dodges the spear speedily and elbows the orc, causing him to face-plant into the ground.

Grobdum charges with the blaze of five thousand warriors, plunging with his fervent might into the depths of battle. He readied his little knife and prepared to eviscerate the secondary closest to him, Urg. Intercepting his motion was Christa, who appeared from the shadows, leading with her flashy pistol in hand, and shot molten lead into his shoulder. With a howl of frustration, and to combat defeat, he attempted to scourge the girl with a ball of magic as the hot ball of liquid formed in his hand. Thrown, it flamed past her arm, singeing the burnt skin with the lick of magical flames.

A stacatto of bullets ripped forth from Christa’s rifle, tearing into the crowd of orcs. Every pull of her trigger sent another burst of hot lead into the advancing horde. She moved backwards, keeping a healthy distance away from the encroaching horde. From the crowd a goblin threw a large rock about the size of a baseball. Instinctively Christa moved to dodge the projectile, but was too slow and took a glancing blow to the forehead. This only served to enrage her and with gritted teeth she continued to fire into the green tide.

Top Man crept closer, his camera zooming in on the primitive war scene as he narrated with his best dataverse- expression that the Omniverse had stayed tuned for. "And now it appears we're comin' up on a territorial Orc tribe, it sounds like they are clashin' with another- oh, those aren't orcs!"

Before the TV personality could say more, a dart shot straight for the lens of TM's camera, and scratched it.

Meanwhile Lyra approached the group with stoically silent steps. An endangered "being" had responded too late to her call, and the archer leapt into action. With the crisp string of her bow stretching with her extended arm, she threw an arrow and heard the familiar sound "Thwum!" In her ear as a spear sliced at her forearm, in place of the stranger she had yet to know.

Quote:[spoiler]Bucky has an injured left arm. The arm can still function, but it responds slower and even clumsier than usual. Moderate injury.

Clayton has a minor gash on his right thigh. Minor Injury.

Boer’s body is covered in poisoned darts, if it wasn’t for his natural resistance to disease and poison he would be in rough shape. Minor Injury

Grave has several minor lacerations across his body. Minor injury

Abner has several minor lacerations across his body. Minor Injury

Klaud is bruised and beaten, but still able to fight. Minor Injury

Crow is bruised and battered, but still able to fight. Minor Injury

Urg has a dagger lodged in his chest, a minor inconvenience for the undead. Minor Injury

Raw Onion has a few scrapes and bruises, she is also covered by a loose net. Minor Injury

IRIS has a goblin grabbing it and has a nasty stab wound from its dagger. Moderate Injury

Stiel’s ribs are bruised and the wind is knocked out of him. Minor Injury

Christa has a killer headache and a small gash on her forehead. Minor Injury

Pinocchio has a paper-cut/scrape on the top of his nose. Minor Injury

Zora is uninjured after dealin’ some kick-ass blows to the orc invaders.

Isaac is missing a lock of his hair. Poor Isaac. Minor Injury

Rictoffen has a scrape on his left arm, acquired epically. Minor Injury

Tooth gets an arial view of the area, giving her an advantage. Minor Injury + influence with group

Jan receives a tiny slash on his arm. Minor Injury

Those who have posted late have been dealt minor injuries, however they have not been disqualified because they gave me a HUGE warning ahead of time. Next time I may not be so lenient but we all have extenuating circumstances at some point. Thank you everyone.

Grobdum has sustained a bullet wound from Christa. Moderate Injury

Lyra got scraped by an arrow. Minor injury.

Top Man's camera lens got scratched. Minor injury.

Overall, I’m amazed at how well everyone has written so far. My expectations for next round = YES.

For the next round, feel free to do a dynamic/group setting battle scene, show us what you got. I have some good expectations for this battle scene. People may die, fight fo’ your life.

And remember, we will be looking at quality, and the time you will have to post will be shorter. If you have the choice to post three small/speedy ones and one large, very eloquently written, I personally would promote the larger one with better quality. You’ll get a better score and will be more prone to surviving.[/spoiler]

Yu Kanda · 08-12-2015, 12:44 PM

Klaud noticed Isaac wasn't paying attention to the explanation she was offering Jan, his mind seemed to wander. The General exorcist decided to address him and return his attention towards the conversation they were having. Isaac pointed out that he was distracted, that it came with age. Klaud appreciated his honesty, yet couldn't help but thinking Isaac might be a bit over seasoned if this venture was as dangerous as she heard. She decided not to mention that to his face and returned a friendly nod offering a soft smile.

" As long as your mind is sharp when it needs be. If this is as dangerous as they say it is we will need every sharp mind, loaded gun and ally we can find"
After explaining what happened to Jan and sharing the limited knowledge that she possessed about the Omniverse with the newcomer Jan suggested the three of them work together during this ordeal.

"That might not be such a bad idea Colonel, with a group this large there are bound to be some problems. What do you think Isaac? " She turned to the one armed man who seemed to have been drifting away again. Isaac seemed to be staring into the trees again. A little sigh could be heard coming from Klaud as she tried to get his attention again, this time facing him. "Isaac ! What do you think ?"

Isaac just stood there for a single second before pointing at something with that same gaze in his eyes. When both Klaud and Jan turned they first heard drums of war combined with a horn and both saw how a horde of orcs charged at the meeting site. They didn't seem like pushovers, every single one of them armed to the teeth, large muscles and yearning for fresh blood. There it was, the group's first trial.

"We're under attack ! Create a defensive circle, people that cannot fight go inside the circle and hide ! " Klaud shouted from the top of her voice. " Time to show your worth. Don't let a single one pass !" She gave it her all to let her voice reach all the folks that turned up for the quest, but now it was time to defend herself. Three orcs came running towards Jan, Isaac and herself. Klaud reached to the side of her belt and unclipped her whip. Grasping the handle of the whip she unraveled the weapon that was rolled up. The popper of the whip then gained a blue energy of some sort. Cracking the whip once into the air she was ready for combat with the brutes that came closer.

Jan drew his freshly reloaded gun. He didn't seem to be bothered all too much with the situation. A true soldier, he knew who his enemy was and was not about to back down from a fight. Isaac stood on her other side yet no weapon was drawn. Didn't he have a way to defend himself ? But before any measures could be taken she saw the first couple of arrows fly through the sky.

"Alright men, Give them Hell !"

Jan did not hesitate for a moment and with his eyes aiming down the barrel of his rifle he started to lay fire on the green skins. It was impressive to see how calm he was when it came to combat. Klaud readied herself for the first strike, as a midrange fighter she had to let them come a bit closer. Thirty meters, twenty meters, fifteen meters NOW. Klaud elegantly took control of her whip and quickly lashed towards the three forest brutes. The cracking of the energy was heard with every lash she made in their direction. Their movement slowed down as they took damage of both Jan's rifle and Klaud's whip. One of them decided to retreat quite early and vanished behind the trees and bushes nearby.

There was a brief opening and Klaud took it, of the two orcs still in front of them she maneuvered the whip around the left orc's neck. With a swift and strong pull the orc lost his balance and was stumbling towards Jan. He could handle that brute as she took care of the other. During the short window of time it took her to create an opening for Jan, the second orc was close enough to attack. With a large swing of his battleaxe he tried to cleave the general in half. Lucky for her this wasn't her first rodeo and jumped backwards. She prepared for a counterattack when Isaac came up next to her.

"I will handle this one "

Klaud was about to give a counterargument but then she heard it.

Quote: An echoing roar was heard across the chaos of the battlefield. From the trees burst a massive forest troll. Its body was caked with dirt and moss and it clutched a large club in its meaty mitts. The beat roared with fury and charged forth towards the group. Klaud reacted quickly and with a flick of her wrist she wrapped her whip around the stampeding beast’s legs. The troll stumbled and fell to its knees, just barely catching itself before collapsing. Captain Crow took this opportunity to dart into the fray. With a dazzling display of speed he snaked between several orcs to strike at the troll. He slashed at the creature’s exposed sides and it roared in pain. Klaud did her best to keep the creature subdued, but with a mighty tub on her whip the troll pulled her close. The whip loosened and the troll lashed out, rushing to its feet and blindly swinging its club. The General and Captain were caught off-guard by the surprising burst of speed and both of them took a glancing blow from the club.

After getting knocked into the dirt Klaud got up, her body was hurting. That wasn't your average blow, she couldn't afford to take more of those. She looked over to the Captain who as well got up slowly, seems like he got hurt as well. "Captain Crow was it ?" She yelled over to him " We need to take care of this savage before it causes more hurt, can you still fight ?"

"Aye lass, I can still fight. Let us give this bastard a beatin he won't soon forget" With those words both of them got up and took a fighting stance towards the forest troll. The beast loudly roared once more, saliva shooting from its mouth and teeth fully visible. It was a fierce looking opponent but she just saw the captain was no pushover, together they can take him.

" I will distract him, you seem pretty quick on your feet. When you see an opening go for his eyes, throat, heart. Whatever vital point you can find"
The captain showed a mischievous grin " Ya can count o' that lass, good luck".

With Crow's consent she closed the gap between the troll and herself. Tightening the grip on her whip she could hear the leather on the handle make a cracking noise. She knew full well that a single misstep would mean her end. The trick is not to let him come too close. Klaud got in her proffered range and cracked her whip onto the ground near the beast.

"I've tamed worse then you in the past, let's see what you got." The words followed by a barrage of air slicing whiplashes. They don't hit the troll but every lash is damn near close to it. The cracking noises of the whip's energy obviously caught the beast attention. Another loud roar aimed at Klaud as the beast was hitting the air around him, seemingly attempting to catch the whip, or at least hit it back.

Klaud's plan was working she has his full attention. If only the beast was alone. On her right a group of four orcs lined up ready to throw their spears towards her. She couldn't stop lashing else the troll got her. She was in a tight spot !

As if time stood still for a second she saw Captain Crow having her back, he slipped through two of them, slicing one's throat and the second one got stabbed right in his heart. Both orcs crumbled before his feet. That meant there were two left. Help came from an unexpected angle as the flying horse she saw earlier dove down from the sky kicking both spear throwing savages right between their eyes. This was all Crow needed to finish the job. His blade danced through both their bodies not leaving any trace of life behind it.

Klaud couldn't really tell how they got sliced up, she had to avoid the enormous club coming her way once more. The vertical slam wasn't that difficult to avoid. The beast was fast but the attack was seen from miles away, the general once again jumped back and stayed at range as the club bashed into the ground. This was it, the opening she was hoping to create. Now is the time for Crow to strike !

And there he was, from behind the bend over troll she saw Crow coming up full speed.
"Yes ! Slay this foul beast. Others may need my help" Klaud thought as Crow was a split second away of performing his hopefully deadly attack.

Ruby Rose · 08-12-2015, 07:28 PM

Grave'a attempt to get friendly was soon interrupted by an arrow slashing a nice wound in his left cheek. He stood still for a moment, before bringing a hand up to the laceration and touching it tenderly with his fingers. He pulled them away and eyeballed the bright red Nephilim blood staining his pale fingers. A scowl crossed his face and he instantly reached for the weapons folded up at his sides, pulling them away and flicking them out to their full size. The glowing lines on each of them provided a small light source for himself and Crow.

He spun on his heel, his vision wheeling around to face a stampede of green creatures. He had absolutely no idea what they were, but they definitely seemed stupid if they were charging a group of well-armed Secondaries like that. A cynical smirk grew on his lips, and he took aim with his white and gold gunblade.

"Tend to them, Caelum, Infernus," he cooed affectionately to his weaponry. He pulled the trigger, and a bolt of searing right tore through the skull of one of the burly green men like a laser beam. He brought the other demonic weapon up and a click was heard as he pulled the trigger again, belching a beam of dark flames forth and searing a hole in the chest of another. He began to alternate between the two, each shot landing, some killing shots, others only wounding. As the green monsters shouting possibly obscene things at him in their native language had caused him to fall back off of his makeshift pedestal, and from what he could hear, Crow had already disappeared.

Soon enough, he bumped backs with another man, wearing a cap and full military gear. However, Grave soon realised he hadn't bumped backs with the trooper, as he began to feel a pinch in the back of his neck and a pulling on the back of his singlet.

"A, shit, sorry Alice," he apologized, possibly seeming crazy to the man blowing through rounds from his rifle and pistol, "Go find somewhere safe, you'll get killed out here," he told her, and shrugged the leaf from his collar, revealing the giant bat on his back. He continued to land precision shots as Alice pushed off from the silver-haired man's back and took flight towards the trees, where less of the bloodbath was occurring. The man behind Grave gave a grunt at the strange interaction.

A whistling could be heard high above, and Grave looked up to see hundreds of arrows - quite obviously unaimed - flying towards the duo. He turned to the man behind him and shouted over the pandemonium, "Quick! Fall back!" he barked as he attempted to move away, but he felt a few arrows open up some light wounds in his legs, slowing his retreat. The arrows weren't the only problem...

Grave could hear a high-pitched 'AGGGGGGHHHHH!' behind him, coupled with the sound of small feet speeding along the plant-ridden earth. Grave spun around in time to lock the little green man's long and gnarly sword in a cross made by the blades of his weapons. Grave gave a pained smirk at the little guy, and the latter retracted his sword, bringing it around in an arc, which Grave easily met with Caelum. The sword fight continued, the little creature's lengthy blade glancing off of Grave's red and white blades over and over.

Grave yawned while parrying. Boooooring, he complained in his head, and Caelum's blade glowed a brilliant white, and the Nephilim slashed upwards at his opponent's blade, cleaving it clean in half. The green man cowered as he dropped his broken sword. Before he could make it any further, Infernus ignited with dark flames, and Grave brought the blade down on the poor fella's shoulder, cleaving through and cauterizing the wound as it fell in two.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he turned around and made a beeline for the temple, constantly glancing around for the military man and, more importantly, hoping against hope that Alice was okay.

Isabelle · 08-12-2015, 08:35 PM

A tiny net. The bane of the mighty pegasi.

Raw Onion struggled against the loops. All privates usually had standard issued knives for these situations but she didn’t think she would need one in her mission to Coruscant. Unarmed, she was trapped under the relentless tyranny of the binds.

She had only one chance to escape. She remembered a technique many of the commanding officers would use for these kinds of situations. They would kick up their wing in a way to make the air around it sharp like a blade.

She remembered the “Eggheads” theorized that it had to do with Pegasus magic. A lot of complicated crap about how their wings aren’t wide enough to attribute to flight and don’t explain our propulsion and that’s supposed to be proof that our flight is magic based yadda yadda yadda she was not a scientist.

While she had attempted to learn the technique before, she had little success in that area. Well, now was a better time than ever.

She fitted one of her wings into one of the loops. Pulling it back, she flung if forward as fast as she could, full intent to break the binds. No avail.

She tried again, failure.

And again.

And again.

After a dozen or so swings, she only felt the binds settling back down unharmed against her feathers. She could already feel the strain of doing this so many times. Her breath was short. She took a moment to rest.

She looked into the ensuing battle. The orcs were too pre-occupied fighting the others to pay attention to the flightless dodo flailing on the ground helplessly. She figured everyone was too busy not dying to help her out at the moment.

She sighed heavily. If a net could defeat her, how could she ever expect to even get to Omni? She’d be relying on the others constantly; she’d be dead weight. The thought frightened her.

No! She wasn’t going to let that happen. She prepped up her wing once more. Flung forward. And again. And again. Adrenaline pumping, her heart racing, she put all her might into one more fling!

She didn’t feel the loop settle quite the same.

She looked over, it was cut!

Thinking hard on how she did it, trying to pinpoint the exact thought and feeling that brought on the slice, she prepped her wing again and once again, flung forward. This time, she could feel the air form a blade around her feathers as it sliced through more of the net.

With one final fling, the medium sized hole became a large hole. She climbed out, shimmying to get her wings and hooves unstuck from any persistent loops. Free from her binds, she climbed to her feet. Her mind finally processing what she had just accomplished. A wide smile spread across her face as she threw herself in the air with a triumphant whiney and a hoof stretched into the sky. She had done it! She was ready to go on this quest!

But an arrow whizzing passed her head interrupted her celebration. She immediately took to the skies.

She rocketed straight for the trees the goblins had taken refuge in. They launched another net at the Pegasus, but she spun around in midair to slice through it with a single stroke of her wing. Trailing just past the tree, she flew circles around it, faster and faster until a mini tornado had formed right on top of it.

The tree stood resolute in the winds, but the goblins couldn’t hold on and were flung from their hiding places. The ones hiding in the neighboring trees barely could hold on themselves, and some were rushing to climb down out of fear a tornado being summoned on them next.

After a few seconds, the whirlwind dissipates. Raw smiles as she flies off, planning her next attack.

The Grey Man · 08-13-2015, 01:19 AM

I’d been tracking them for days now. An orcish war party. They’d attacked my new home, where I’d settled since I wound up in this weird-ass shithole. They raped, burnt, pillaged. They’d carried off the women and impregnated the village’s virgins with half-monstrous spawn.

Ragin’ Roger Krugman doesn’t play that way, baby. I was outnumbered, and I’d lost the support of the town guard a long time ago. I was never as good as The Grey Man at dealing with other people. The fact that everybody here spoke English, with few people fluent in other languages, really compounded the issue. They’d found my manner to be too gruff and split off from me a couple of days ago.

I saw the beasts’ leader wearing one of their suits of armor a while back, too.

Now, following the smaller set of footprints—a scouting party, composed of goblins—your boy could hear the sounds of distant gunfire. I smiled as I heard the sound, realizing that the orcs were outgunned. For all I knew, they were outnumbered too.

First thing’s first. Creeping steadily along, I saw my quarry. They were fleeing right towards me, but their backs were turned—they were throwing darts up into a tree. The four that were closest to me ran nearly straight into my reach. Perfect. Grabbing two of their tiny bodies, I quickly whirled my arms back in a wide circle, hefting them up and over my shoulders, building up momentum before slamming each of the two screaming goblins into their dizzied and frightened companions. They didn’t get back up. Probably wouldn’t for quite a while. It made me feel pretty cool, too.

No time to brag, though; there were people to help. I could relay how cool my thing I did was after I—whoop, hold up. I had to take a dive as some darts whizzed past my ear, the remainder of the goblinoid troops trying to suppress me as they routed from the fight completely. I pulled my laser pistol from its thigh holster and started returning my fire, hoping to . The goblins, likely due to the lack of decent training that accompanies a lifestyle of nomadic barbarism, decided it’d be better to turn and flee altogether rather than engage me. Which was really good, because I’m pretty sure those darts are tipped with some kind of venom and oh, man, I really hate being poisoned. I’ve had the pleasure of being poisoned and of being shot, and let me tell you, on a personal level, the “poisoned” option is way, way worse. Getting shot stops hurting a lot faster, for one...

I could go on, but the battle still raging in the distance needs me more. Switching from my pistol to my trusty heat burst rifle, I leapt up into a sprint and dashed through the dense foliage. The sounds of heated conflict and familiar scent of gunpowder and war lead me to a wide, open clearing, where the orcish menace were locked in heated battle against… ugh, shit, it’s a hodgepodge of random weirdoes.

Well, it was pretty clear from the action that everything that wasn’t an orc here was trying to kill the orcs here, so that made them my friends for the time being. I rolled down and started firing towards the advancing mob. It would prevent them from advancing any more, allowing the others time to deal with their own respective threats—which seemed like a good idea, since they had some kind of awful, giant monster thing with them.

Okay, I said to myself, looks like we’ve got a couple robots—both of which looked like they could use a hand. Couple soldiers, looks like. What’s the deal with that horse thing? Ugh, I don’t even know what half of these things are supposed to be, but I guess they’re fighting orcs…

My eyes found cover, and there appeared to be a man behind it, as well. A short, ruined stone wall. Well, they had only arrows and the big monster, so I guessed it’d be good enough. Rising, I continued my fire. A hail of arrows launched towards me; I clenched my butthole and ran faster than a speeding plasma bolt, diving behind the cover. I felt the ground shake from the force of the near-misses that could have ended my life, and pressed hard against the low wall. Plus, I landed wrong on my shoulder during that roll, so that would probably make trying to help fix this situation even more “fun.”

A shocked gasp from the man next to me brought my attention back to him. He was dressed in a style befitting a gentleman explorer of yesteryear—middle 1900s, maybe? I never paid attention in history class, that shit bored me to no end.

More importantly than where he was from, the dandy fellow had an arrow jutting out of his thigh. Shit, that won’t do. I looked up and spoke, yelling over the sounds of pitched battle. “What’s your name, friend?”

“I—it’s Clayton?” the stranger answered me, apparently bewildered by my sudden appearance. I took a break from our conversation to rise up slightly and fire blindly into the mob once more with the heat burster, then knelt back down, an arrow very nearly messing up my sweet hairdo. “Clayton, huh?” I repeated, “Well don’t worry, Clayton. I’m not a doctor, but I’ve taken care of plenty of arrow wounds in my day. You’re gonna be just fine. I’m here to help you. All of you. Just trust me.”

He spoke as though he was about to object, so I just went ahead and pulled the handkerchief hanging out of his pocket into his mouth. “Bite down on this if it hurts too bad,” I warned him, removing my shirt to use as a tourniquette, and drawing my knife. The look of fear in his eyes was palpable. There were tears as I gently tried to turn the shaft, to see if it was lodged in bone or merely the man’s flesh. I assessed the wound; it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. No bone damage; that head would come out easily enough. “Sorry,” I said, briefly explaining why I’d twisted the damn thing. “When removing an arrow, getting the head out is the hardest part,” I continued, “but like I said, it’s not in the bone, so this will be pretty simple. Then I’ll wrap it and you can cool it back here. You should just use your other leg to pop up from here and keep shooting after this, if you can. If not, hey, I understand. This is gonna huuuuurt.”

He didn’t seem very reassured as I tore away the shaft, using my knife to widen the gash somewhat. “Yep, there she is, Mr. Clayton,” I said dryly, using the edge of my knife to gently pop the thing out, at which point I finished the removal using my fingers. The gut tying the arrowhead to the shaft was just about dissolved from Clayton’s blood, too. Good thing I got here or the head would’ve been much harder to retrieve, and he’d have probably died from infection after the battle, although that’s assuming nobody else knew what to do. Still, from the looks of them, why would they? I only knew because of how insane Grey’s training is in terms of planning for every contingency.

A strong gust of wind hit us then, messing up my perfect, beautiful hair. God dammit. I sighed and glance up over the wall; the orcs had been whipped into disarray by some powerful gust of wind, being generated by the weird horsey thing. Whatever, this whole place is just weird, I’d already gotten used to this kind of nonsense happening. I knelt back down to return to my work.

“Alright,” I assured Clayton, “Here comes the really fun part.” I didn’t really think that he’d heard me, since he was busy screaming into the handkerchief and pounding his fist against the wall, but he was about to feel even worse. I put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at me, pain and rage in his eyes, still grunting loudly from the pain. I showed him the bottle of styptic in my hand and he winced, shaking his head as if to decline—but he didn’t resist. He closed his eyes and waited for it to hit him, and for that I respected him. He screamed once it started coagulating the blood over his raw flesh, of course, but hey, I would’ve done the same thing.

A quick wrap of my shirt later, Clayton had a suitable bandage. “The name’s Roger Krugman, by the way…” I told him. You know, in case I get killed. “I’m gonna go help those guys who are fighting the big horrible monster. You hang in there.”

And with that, I left my cover. It seemed as though the two warriors engaging the troll-like thing had a pretty good grasp of what they were doing, so even if I couldn’t make it in time, I could rendezvous with them and we could strengthen ourselves through numbers. As the pirate-looking guy closed in to deliver the killing blow, the troll began to turn around—it had glimpsed him out of the corner of its eye, Thinking quickly, I held my rifle aloft with one arm and drew my pistol with the other. Volley after volley of concentrated energy battered the beast, turning its attention back from the pirate and allowing him the glory of following through with the killing blow.

Grey once called my desperate tactic of using a rifle and a pistol akimbo-style “showoffish” and “inefficient”. If only he could see me now. I rushed over to the old captain and his ally, the blond-haired female.

“Lt. Roger Krugman, Grey Paramilitary Solutions, happy to help,” I quickly said to them, tossing business cards out of my pockets and into their hands. Hopefully they’d think to look at them later. I put my pistol away and whirled back around. “Now let’s see what else we can do to get the others on track!”

Gamzee Makara · 08-13-2015, 02:08 AM

Oh well this is just VERDAMMT PERFEKT! I genuinely thought for a moment that perhaps, maybe, just maybe, THINGS WOULD GO SMOOTHLY. Ah, but what am I to expect with mein luck? Un surprise party? Just for me?! Of course not. Just these boorish, tribal, inferior green monsters. Next I'll be expecting Omni to jump out of a cake in his damenunterwäsche! I keep hearing certain shouts from my fellow 'secondaries' as they are called. "Orcs!" I hear. "Goblins!" They say. Creatures of myth, come to life. Then again, after killing hundreds of the untoten and their hordes, little surprises me.

I watch my unlikely friends battle these beasts, and for now, they seem to be holding their own. I see two fellows surrounded by brutes. Unafraid of these daunting odds, they blast through the enemy line with iron and gunpowder. I see a strange and rather puny robot fire a wondrous gun that I had never seen before, using ammunition that became searing beams of red energy, not unlike those of mein own Boomhilda. I see the strange untoten (the one that had been the subject of several heated arguments even before pleasantries had been exchanged) busying himself with, ah... preparing lunch.

Alas, so preoccupied with battle that they are, they fail to notice more of our enemies joining the fray. I imagine they will soon learn they are outnumbered. That we are outnumbered. As soon as one Orc is slain, three fall in line to take its place. Why then, am I compelled to stay? Why then, am I compelled to help these strange allies of mine? Perhaps it is because I fear I would not do so well in this universe on my own. Perhaps I am curious as to how this foray, this expedition of hapless secondaries will play out. In any case, it would be of no benefit of me to let too many of my 'friends' to die. I suppose that maybe i should lend a hand and ACH MEIN GOTT WAS IST DAS!?

"Der...Der Riese."

I swear under my breath and place my staff in the leather straps on my back, but immediately my pistol is levied at the huge monstrosity before me. I watch as two secondaries whose names are not known to me attempt to pull this wondrous beast to the ground. They are...less than successful. Glancing blows are struck before the troll bats them away with a crude weapon. That is the real prize, und horrific, beautiful terror of the world.

So enraptured with this display of power this anomaly of nature is giving, I fail to notice I have a very curious, very large green beastie behind me. But, my instincts are sharpened from fighting the undead (rather ironically), who also enjoy the act of SNEAKING UP ON UNSUSPECTING RESPECTABLE GERMAN SCIENTISTS!

-ahem-

But yes, it is such that I felt this, tickling hotness on the nape of my neck. It is in this moment my reflexes kick in, and BAM mein fist swings into the tricky bastard’s face! Without even having to turn around! Aha! Ahahahaha! I do admittedly need a moment to collect myself as I realize how… Gah, how would my American friend put it? “Badass?” Yes. That was very badass. With new vigor, I once again turn my attention to this glorious struggle awaiting me.

I once again aim down the clear sight of my pistol, giving the troll a once over. Mmm. Thick hide, rough, rough skin, engorged hands. Something tells this Doctor that perhaps lightning is not the prescribed medicine for this endeavor. But ah! A strange, thick moss covers his body! Perhaps, like most vegetation, it is flammable? If it is not, then shooting it square in the face with beams of heated energy rounds will have to suffice. For now, however, Boomhilda returns to her sheathe. I swing out Kemat’s Bite, and stare down at the iron horde that stands in between me and my goal. Valkyries begin to sing to me. I flip several switches on the shaft of the staff, and hold down a button with my thumb. The sweet, sweet crackle of electricity floats into mein ears, as I feel the power of lightning in my hands. Ah. A fully charged payload on a full charge. The carnage shall be…

Gratuitous.

I release my thumb from the trigger mechanism, and watch with uncontainable glee as violet orbs of static discharge shoot from the gem of power atop the staff. The balls of energy will float precariously above the heads of the Orcs until they slowly sink down to the ground, harmless until then. But, as the first ball of lightning touches the earth below us, arcs of brilliant electricity shoot from the grounded orb, straight into my enemies. Everywhere, everywhere, I see green bodies fall to the ground, a white glow emitting from their evaporated eye sockets. Then, the glow extinguishes, along with the last of their life force. Some of the burlier and luckier ones will survive and will simply be knocked unconscious from the pain, but others will be dead before they hit the ground. This of course will not completely clear the battlefield, heavens no, but it is a start. With the strategic placement of my orbs, the least that it has done for me is clear a path from where I was currently standing to the prize ahead.

And then, I say quietly to no one in particular as a smile cracks my face:

“Well at least their deaths were swift...after those final moments of utter agony.”

I cannot help the hysterical laughter escaping from my lungs as I run out into the battlefield, staff raised. As I said before, kill one vermin, and several more simply take it’s place. While initially, I practically had a pathway of green bodies to the troll that was my target, other orcs gradually began to realize what was going on and made attempts to impede my progress.

Luckily, my opening attack also managed to scatter what I could only loosely define as ‘squads’ or ‘regiments’ of Orcs and Goblins, so obstacles between myself and the giant were rather sparse. Groups of two or three enemies at a time, rather. It is such that I had little trouble dealing with these nuisances with well placed bolts of lightning before they reached me, save one sneaky little goblin that managed to cut a diagonal slash across my shoulder blade before I sunk the bladed edge of my weapon into its annoying green neck.

A small, partially decimated contingent of three remaining archers set upon me with a hail of rugged arrows. I succeeded only in rolling out of harm’s way just before they hit their mark. I spun around to face them, and, in one deft movement, free my darling Boomhilda from her cage with my left hand, firing six shots wildly at my attackers. They scurried and dove behind rocks and trees, but not without a few burning holes in their flesh. I imagine I did not manage to mortally wound any of them, as I was shooting with my off hand, but they certainly got the message to GET THE FUCK OUT OF MEIN WAY!

I reach the rampaging troll with little issue from there on out, maniacal grin still plastered on my face. I don’t even pay attention to the two combatants already assaulting the troll. The General women stands to the left of me yes, but that is all I register of her. My mind has already been consumed by the adrenaline of battle, the sadist in me beginning to show. I briefly notice a man dressed in strange seafarer's garb begin to seize up a final blow. But it doesn’t matter. My plan will be set in motion. I start to laugh again.

“Aha! Ahahahaha! Does the big man need un time-out?! Is he throwing a temper tantrum!?”

It is time for some shock therapy. I fire several bolts of purple lightning at the beasty’s face to get his attention, assuming that they won’t do a whole lot of damage. After that, I set about trying to set the beast on fire by frying the moss covering his skin. With great expertise, I fling lightning at the vegetation, hoping that it catches. I fear that shooting the dried green stuff with Boomhilda would simply cause it to disintegrate into dust, so I kept at it, hoping that the plasma would be sufficient.

And, lo and behold! Unz beast has caught-

OOF!

I am quite literally backhanded across the battlefield, landing at the feet of the captain who introduced himself as Crow. How quaint. My head is spinning, but is no longer clouded by a proverbial red mist. I push myself up from the ground and give him a wary glance. I look back to the troll, who is currently screaming in agony as bright orange flames lick at his skin. My eyes go back to my ‘ally.’

“Sorry?” Is all I can manage.

Quote:Translations:
Verdammt Perfekt = Fucking perfect
damenunterwäsche = lingerie/underwear
untoten = undead
ACH MEIN GOTT WAS IST DAS!? = OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT?!
Der Riese = The Giant

Jak Mar · 08-13-2015, 03:24 AM

While his allies were taking care of their own problems, Jan had a little orc problem of his own. Jan pulled out his M82 assault rifle at the orc that Klaud, the female general had sent reeling toward him. He made quick work of the orc and the orc's dead body fell to the ground.

As Jan noticed more and more orcs coming, he continued making quick work of the orcs that came his way. A quick paced shot killed one orc and Jan filled another with lead. Another orc felt a large "crack" from Jan's elbow as the creature face planted on the ground as Jan killed the orc on the spot.

These damn orcs just kept coming and each one more annoying than the next. But still there was that chance of their group winning, they just had to find it.

The calm and confident soldier looked up and a few arrows were coming near him. As the arrows rained down, the man took the orcs he was fighting and pushed them forward, letting the orcs take the arrows meant for him. He frowned at the loss of the life, but screw it. After a ridiculous amount of running and dodging arrows and killing more orcs, Jan found himself among others, some allies, some new.

He noticed the Captain and the General and a new face but heard the man call out his title.

"“Lt. Roger Krugman, Grey Paramilitary Solutions, happy to help"

Jan was glad to see yet another solider type show up. It was a lot better to have strength in numbers right now than anything else. Everyone he'd seen had fought impressively and still kept going.

Lt. Krugman, I am "Col. Jan Templar... of the Interplanetary Strategic Alliance (ISA)." . Any help you guys need, I'm up for it.

They would need all the help they would get.

Jak Mar · 08-13-2015, 10:13 AM

Name's "Col. Jan Templar, ISA..".

Risky move of mine, but hell, if we are working together, it's better than calling someone "somebody"

The beast in front of us roared as it was being attacked from all sides by gunfire, fire, electricity and even a large cut from Captain Crow. How much this beast could take, was the real question.

The fights kept going on as I literally kept shooting orcs one by one, and dodging arrows, but i felt the impact of one orc's weapon moving across my arm as a small slash and winced for what seemed like a second.

However, several orcs seemed to get the idea that some of their allies started to disappear and started to rush me and some of the others. Strange group of secondaries we were though.

I stared at the stranger that got knocked near the captain's feet and all i could hear were the strange tones of German spitting out of the man's mouth.

Literally, I frowned and turned back to the Troll. This giant troll seemed to be taking a lot of damage. He had to fall sometime, but something bothered me.

Orcs were still coming and sounds of fighting could be heard everywhere. When was this orc battle even going to end?

Roger Smith · 08-13-2015, 10:32 AM

And just like that, things went to hell.

One moment they'd been having a very ahnimated sort of conversation among their very eclectic group gathered here with the, apparently, common goal of searching out their glorious, backward silhouette of an overlord. The reasons were definitely varied, even from just the definite answers he'd heard, but that didn't change the immediate goal: find Omni.

It was a beautiful thing.

And then, the next moment, the background hum and buzz of the jungle was torn apart by a very different sound indeed, a greenskinned horde bursting from the trees, swarming out at anything and everything, murderous intent clear from their aggressive posture and the infernal noises spewing from their maws.

He heard the lady general, Klaud, try to take charge of the situation again, and he let a predator's grin crack through his formerly cheery facade. "Aye, aye, ma'am!" he cackled, clapping both hands against his knees. In a flurry of movement, Crow was up on his feet, his captain's coat swishing about him like the wings of the bird whose name he had stolen, and a flash of steel heralded the drawing of his blade, glinting silver and red in the light filtering through the trees above. And as the first of the orces reached him, he was off and running at -- and through them.

Truth be told, the chaos of the situation almost made Crow feel at home again. It certainly made him feel alive. If only the ground were moving just a little...quaking, heaving and shattering unpredictably, it would be just like the good ol' days...back on the sea, raiding and boarding other hapless fools' ships, wreaking havoc, never knowing if you were going to catch a stray bullet in the back, or get your head blown off by cannonfire from your own mates!

The wicked, manic grin on Crow's face, and the gleam of joy and mirth in his eyes was a clear signal to all he was having the time of his life, even in the midst of this great danger.

He struck out with wide flourishing blows, snaking over, under, around and through the attempts of the greenskinned brutes to block or parry away his saber, striking quick and precisely. He didn't deal out many deathblows or mortal wounds, but he certainly removed a goodly number of hands, broke a few weapons, and left more than a few unable to fight. A trail of hamstringed, weaponless, broken -- if not perhaps truly beaten -- orcs was left in his wake. Still a threat to anyone who might take them lightly, but not a threat to anyone in this group, if what he was seeing from the others was any indication.

"AHAHAHAHAHA HARHARR!" He roared in delight, a swift punch to one orc's face sending it staggering dumbly before his blade flashed in, cleaving through its deadly, but shoddily-built axe and carved into its face. "Dear ol' Davy Jones'd be having a field day makin' room and bookin' you lot if we were out on the deeps, lads!"

The sudden sound of an echoing roar that rose above the chaos of the battlefield brought Crow momentarily back to his senses. The beast that exploded from out of the treeline, covered in dirt, and moss, and filth, and wielding a very large club took the breath from his lungs, and his sword arm dropped slightly, his eyes wide in a mixture of awe and faint traces of genuine fear. He'd seen and tangled with some big brutes in his life, but THAT thing...that thing looked like it'd eat the good captain for lunch. Literally.

The lady general reacted to it first, and with a crack and of her whip and a flick of her wrist had the giant beast's legs entangled and sent it staggering to its knees, catching itself on one hand before ending up completely prone. Not one to waste an opportunity to remove a threat of that size, Crow virtually disappeared, a flickering wraith as he darted back into the thick of things, carving his way through Orcs and snaking around and through the greenskinned throng, leaping up and over another, with the help of one green, large-eyed and tusked face as a springboard.

He struck at the beast's exposed sides, scoring several blows, but the troll's hide was so tough it was hard to get a good, solid strike in. He inflicted little more than superficial wounds, clearly painful but not exactly threatening to the beast's life. He hopped back as the creature struggled to rise again, managing to pull the lady general in close and loosen her whips hold on it. Leaping back into the fray to try and keep the troll occupied and prevent it from getting a solid whack in with that club, Crow instead caught a blindly-swung blow from that club

It caught him in the chest, and he let out a distinctive whoof of pain as the air was rapidly excused from his lungs, and he was knocked staggering and stumbling several paces back, ending up flat on his back. He was seeing stars and having the damnedest time catching his breath again, and he was fairly confident if he could see under his coat, his chest would very soon be one large bruise. He could only hope there weren't any...deeper injuries. LAst thing he needed was broken bones to worry about.

Hauling himself gamely to his feet, he could only flash Klaud a wolfish grin when she asked if he could still fight. "Aye, lass, I can still fight." He winced in pain at the effort of trying to speak, but pushed on. "Let's give this bastard a beatin' he won't soon forget!" The good captain spread his stance wide, ready to spring back into the fray, and stared down the massive troll, flinching at the noise from its slavering maw as it roared at them in fury.

"I will distract him, you seem pretty quick on your feet. When you see an opening, go for his eyes, throat, heart. Whatever vital point you can find."

Crow grinned wickedly, a mischevious glint in his eyes. "Aye aye...ya can count on that, lass. Good luck to ye."

He watched as the lady general sprang into action, darting in close to the troll, taking up its attention with the greatest of ease. It was almost laughable, seeing the big, stupid beast flailing at the air, trying to catch Klaud's whip. What was less laughable was the sight of a group of orcs trying to take advantage of the scene, closing on on the general, lining up with spears ready to let fly.

Not on his watch.

He was on them in a flash, coming out of their proverbial blind spot. A quick snicker-snack and two of the rocs fell in a crumpled heap, sporting two grisly new piercings letting blood flow everywhere. He was forced to fend off strikes from the remaining two's spears, not having an immediate chance to end things, but in a flash, the winged horse swooped down, a kick between the eyes of each orc distracting them and leaving them howling in pain, swinging wildly with their weapons.

They were soon relieved of their pain in the most immediate of ways.

He arrived back at the scene of the troll melee just in time for the beast to make a fatal mistake, smashing its club into the ground, leaving itself wide open. He darted in, leaping up and over a band of orcs and their goblin allies, catching more than a few arrows and blades in his cloak and coat, but suffering only the barest of scrapes in his mad vault, he came up behind the troll, leaping up to land on its back as it was bowed over to rip its club free of the earth. Unfortunately, at the sound of the captain's descent, it turned around, grasping at him with one massive mitt.

Feeling the rough fingers close over one leg, Crow let out a most undignified yelp of discomfort, but was soon freed as a hail of gunfire pelted the creture, and it released Crow, turning back to instinctively shield its face from the hail of pain assaulting it.

Landing in a rough roll, Crow sprang back to his feet with a laugh and a quick call of "Much obliged, mate!" to the one who introduced himself as Roger Krugman. He snagged a business card as it was tossed, and shoved it in a pocket, offering a mock-salute with his blade as he turned back to the troll...just in time to see a hail of lightning batter its mossy hide, earning roars of pain and indignation from the moss-clad beast even as it erupted into flames, which only sent it into a renewed fit of flailing and rage. Recoiling from the heat of the flames, Crow scowls intensely at the burning monstrosity, just as the crazy fool who'd lit the beasty up in the frist place literally crashes down at Crow's feet.

Staring down at the scientist judgementally, Crow only sighs at the simple "Sorry?" the man offers.

"Look, lad, keep yer wits about ya. No time for any o' that goin' crazy with battle. And maybe a little less showin' off with the lightning, yeah? Might hit someone tryin' to save yer sorry ass."

A swift flick of his own wrist, and the bloody design on Crow's saber comes to life, writhing like a serpent, spinning off the blade and rearing up over his arm, flashing wickedly with its sharp, cutting edges. A swift series of steps carried the captain around the troll, putting him in clear view of it as it extricated its weapon fro mthe ground, ready to resume smashing the little pests bothering it. "Ahoy, ye great stupid scallywag!" he taunted, the bloody-hued whip attached to his saber waving about tauntingly. "The music is playin', bucko, and Jack Ketch is a'waitin' fer his dance!"

Though the words probably sailed past the brute's tiny little brain without finding purchase, Crow's gestures and tone struck home. Roaring indignantly, the troll lurched forward, bringing its club around in a devastating blow that would have surely left Crow broken on the ground with a direct hit. But it only struck empty air, Crow leaping up and over it, his cape and coat swishing in the whistling gust of wind from the club's passage.

And then the bloody whip of Crow's saber danced its own dance, finding purchase in the troll's throat as it lifted its head to gaze dumbly at the airborne pirate. A sick, wet squelch and the bloody whip tore free, along with a spray of very real blood, and wound itself back around the captain's saber.

Falling on the brute, Crow took his sword in both hands, hacking and slashing away with a blurred frenzy of motion. "AVAST YER LIFE, YE SCURVY DOG! DAVY JONES IS WAITIN' ON YEH, DON'T BE LATE!" A final blow, a piercing thrust to strike at the troll's heart and it finally gave up the chase, staggering drunkenly back, swinging listlessly with its club before crashing down and shaking the earth. "Ya-harr.....finally done...."

Turning back to the lady general and the other one -- Jan Templar, was it? Good lad -- the captain offered a wicked grin. "Right then, lad and lass, what say we haul wind, and smartly? Think this place has been measured fer its chains for a little while now."

Proto Man · 08-13-2015, 11:45 AM

“Oh son of a…” Top Man plucked the floating camera out of the air and brought the lens up to his face. Even as the scene in the clearing descended into chaos, the Robot Master had far more pressing concerns. “What’s the feed look like?” He asked into the machine, and after a few moments, he pulled up the text stream for his current live feed.

"Shit."

"Double shit."

"Why do I pay money for this?"

"The fuck is this?"

“Calm yourselves,” Top Man barked as he powered down the floating camera and slipped it into his backpack. Once he was certain it wouldn’t power on or do anything stupid, he switched the live feed to the one in his skull. The resolution wasn’t quite as sharp, but it was good enough. Plus, it made his viewers feel like they were walking one of those shaky camera movies.

With the camera situation resolved, Top Man glanced over at the talking puppet—Pinocchio. “You okay?” He asked, repeating the same question his new associate had asked him a couple minutes earlier. The little wooden boy responded with a nod of his head as the scream of the creatures drew closer amidst the various reports of shotguns and rifles and energy weapons. Spinning to look at the situation, Top Man saw what was coming at them.

“Orcs.” He muttered as he saw the green-skinned creatures break through the tree line.

A notification popped up for him from his live feed site.

“Lame. Orks are much more threatening. Plus, they have cooler accents.”

“Charming.” Top Man mumbled beneath his breath as a few of the orcs got around the line of attackers and started toward the Robot Master’s position. With a frown, he glanced over his shoulder at Pinocchio. “You might want to buckle up for this one… It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

Ignoring what would ultimately be a flood of snarky insults and complaints from people that would nevertheless continue subscribing to his live feeds for years to come, Top Man hopped on top of the uproots and watched as one of the orcs spotted him. The green-skinned creature came rushing at the robot with a look somewhere between anger and sadism. As the orc swung down at him with an axe, Top Man launched off the roots, and after a superbly executed aerial cartwheel, the android landed back on his boots. Meanwhile, the creature obliterated the uproots and buried a few inches of its axe into the ground.

“You missed.”

With a snort, the orc craned its neck around and spotted the grinning Robot Master standing unharmed a few feet away. Freeing its axe, it came rushing at Top Man and swung low at the preteen-sized machine. On this occasion, the nimble android hopped up into the air, spun around, and delivered what amounted to a thunderous kick the side of the orc’s skull. As his adversary roared and stumbled back, Top Man landed calmly on his feet.

Dashing forward, Top Man passed between the orc’s legs, and once he was on the other side of his opponent, he lashed out with two well-placed kicks at the back of its kneecaps. As the creature dropped down to its knees, Top Man jumped up onto its back and clamped his own knees around the sides of its head. With that, the dancing Robot Master jerked around to the other side of the orc, eliciting a hearty snap from its cervical vertebra before it went limp under him.

Relinquishing his grip, the machine flipped over and landed on his feet in front of the dead creature. Before he had much time to savor or check the comments, there were four more green-skinned warriors charging at him.

Zack Fair · 08-13-2015, 12:04 PM

Before the droid could respond to Abner's question, the whole situation took a drastic turn. Orcs and goblins began to explode from the treeline, while arrows filled the air. Abner and Bucky both looked at the charging group, but all Abner could think was that he'd been lured into some kind of trap by that girl. Fortunately, the others seemed to be on his side of this predicament, evidenced by the sudden violence that was breaking out. Abner knew one thing, though, and that was that he needed to find some real cover.

He smacked Bucky on the back as he bolted towards the other secondaries, though his vision of them was being quickly blocked by the green warriors flooding into the area. "Move, you bucket of bolts!"

"Die Jedi Scum!"

Not the response he had expected, but he'd heard stories of this droid escaping slightly more improbable odds. He wasn't going to try his luck, though. A career Stormtrooper like Abner knew that strength was always in numbers. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to get to the group before being surrounded by orcs. In no time he found himself back to back with the silver haired warrior known as Grave.

Abner didn't get a chance to say anything before he noticed the man was talking to himself. Or maybe it was his weapons? Hell, maybe even an imaginary friend. Abner didn't know, but all he could do was let out an annoyed sigh. What the hell was with this group?

He had to give Grave credit, though, the man didn't waste any time, and was quickly shooting at any orcs that dared venture close. Though it agitated the horde into attacking en masse, Abner spent those valuable few seconds retrieving a tin of chewing tobacco from his Kevlar vest's outer carrier. Once he got the wad of tobacco he was damn sure going to need to deal with both these ridiculous enemies and allies into his mouth, he drew his pistol and began to expertly shoot several orcs to help Grave clear a path.

Abner paused to reload, when Grave alerted him to more arrows approaching rapidly. Abner glanced up to see the approaching onslaught, and just like grave he quickly tried to move away from them. Abner leaped over a fallen stump, keeping his arms up to shield his face from any damage, and it was good that he did. The arrows cut across his arms and legs, none of them lodging in but still drawing a fair amount of blood. Abner slung a flurry of cuss words from his mouth at the sudden pain, and looked around to identify the source.

Snarling as he spotted several archers in the trees above them, Abner holstered his pistol and grabbed his rifle from his back. Though he preferred classic ballistic technology for his sidearm, his rifle was a typical Stormtrooper rifle, it's main strength being it's energy reserves allowing plenty of shots. So he aimed upwards and easily blasted several archers from the trees, thinning the rain of arrows on this group somewhat.

He paused though, and looked down at his rifle. Damn, it sure was easier to shoot this thing without that bulky helmet throwing off his aim. His out of place thoughts on Imperial uniform regulations were abruptly stopped by one of the larger orcs stepping near him with a massive, spiked club. Abner raised his rifle once more and shot the being in the chest, but the creature only paused and stumbled back for a brief second.

"You've got to be kidding me," Abner grumbled. Of course, he would get one of the big assholes.

The orc swung it's club downwards, and Abner barely dove aside in time. He hit the ground and rolled to his feet, looking at the orc as it ripped it's weapon from the ground. Abner glanced to the side briefly, and quickly fired at two goblins that were approaching from his left side. With three shots he put the two creatures down, unfortunately for him that gave the Orc enough time to close the gap between the two.

Abner braced himself as the orc simply collided with him this time, and lifted him from the ground with the mere impact. His rifle fell from hands, and Abner hit the dirt on his back. He looked up to see the club coming downwards again, and rolled to the side just in time to avoid being crushed and impaled by the primitive weapon. As he did a full turn and ended up on his back again, he swung his right foot up and hit the warrior's knee from the side, twisting it unnaturally and causing the orc to drop to a kneel with a scream of pain.

Abner awkwardly stumbled to his feet afterwards, and pulled his combat knife from his belt. He charged forwards, but the orc saw him coming. He was too close to swing the club, so instead the barbarian just tried to position it between Abner and itself. This was little obstacle to Abner, though, who simply stepped into the club with a powerful kick. The momentum knocked the orc onto it's back, and Abner wasted no time plunging his knife into the warrior's neck.

He sheathed his dagger and grabbed his rifle with little delay. After giving a few annoyed tugs to pull the rifle's sling loose from a root, he spotted Grave yet again. He pointed to the larger group of secondaries, which seemed to be holding their ground amongst the slightly thinner numbers. They needed to get over there.

"This way, come on!" Abner shouted, then glanced back to Bucky. "You too, rust-brain! Let's move!"

Abner shouldered his rifle once more and began to work through the crowd, trying to get nearer to the others.

Deadpool · 08-13-2015, 03:44 PM

Pandemonium.

In the time it took to fabricate a story neither true nor fake, Pinocchio went from meeting a fellow autonomous being to scrapping for survival.

The spear intending to impale or remove his head whiffed passed, grazing Pinocchio’s pointy nose as he backpedaled into a barrel roll, and crashed spine-first into the tree trunk he hid beside.

The green savage hunkered forward as his long weapon continued to murder the innocent air. He let out a walloping howl, and threw his spear into a congregation of bushes adjacent to the exposed roots, smacking his hands against his face—his eye—before dropping to his knees and gurgling some cry to his version of Allah; then his fell over like an unattended ladder.

The sting of a paper cut tingled his nose; he cross-eyed his sights to notice the little leaflet perched there no longer existed. “Aww man,” he whimpered.

“You okay?” Top Man asked.

Pinocchio wondered if Top man was okay (he tended to his techno gizmo as if it were Humpty Dumpty), but simply substituted his reply with a nod.

The unnatural sounds of the woodland were parliamenting in nearby, and the marionette could hear it—war cries, rumbling footsteps, and the roars of weapons beyond Pinocchio’s comprehension. And they were either being projected louder or drawing closer; he invested in the latter.

Top Man did too, and looked over at Pinocchio with narrowed eyes and an almost pitying frown. He told Pinocchio to buckle up,its gonna be a bumpy ride (which the marionette took as a slick, futuristic catchphrase worth imitating), and then without another word, sprung over the exposed roots, dreidel-shaped head forward.

Another green savage jumped from the approaching militia, attempting to test his axe against Top Man’s tangerine exterior; the android resorted to acrobats, and the savage’s axe turned the uproots into woodchips instead.

“Woah.” Pinocchio was astounded.

He watched Top Man kick the shit out of the savage, eventually turning the green warrior’s head into a dreidel itself—Top Man’s ultimate attack, Pinocchio imagined.

It exhilarated him; after his robotic partner landed a meter or so away, the marionette rushed over to the fresh lifeless body. “Yeah, my turn now!” he growled, and sent his red-painted-wood-of-a-shoe smashing into the side of the savage’s contorted head.

“We kick ass together!” Pinocchio proclaimed. He turned to see what reaction that drew out of Top Man; his partner was too preoccupied with the four savages stampeding towards them, all clasping weaponry of the two hands necessary variety. “Holy butterballs! “

Pinocchio’s eyes darted over to the axe in the dead savage’s hand. It was his only chance. He hopped over the corpse and bent down to pull it from his hands, but his grip was too firm; rigor mortis was already progressing.

Oh, come on! the marionette thought as he took both hands to grab either side of the greenie’s fist, trying to pry it open; not a damn finger budged. Dammit!

Jak Mar · 08-13-2015, 05:02 PM

There was a thick crash of the giant orc on the ground as Jan viewed the dead creature from a distance.

Things didn't end there as there was still orcs rushing at Jan and the others near him. He cracked the end of his gun on top of one orcs head and the creature fell to the ground.

There was still various problems of arrows flying. He swiftly hit the ground for a second and got up, shooting an orc in the trees trying to shoot him with an arrow. He aimed and fired as the orcs fell to the bottom of the ground. At least there would mean fewer arrows for the rest of the group.

The man kicked an orc to the ground and frowned calling out to his group "General Klaud, Isaac and Captain Crow, are you guys alright?"

No response? He'd have to carve a path toward them. Avoiding standing in one spot too long, he kept moving.

Demetri Malius · 08-13-2015, 06:07 PM

As I watched this ragtag group of secondaries that I just joined. My sensors picked up on something. A few others seemed to notice as well, and those of us that did turned in time to see a large frontier of orcs heading directly this way. This was either a confirmed trap, or the first trial for our adventure.

Warning: Threat Detected

Yeah I got that. My internal mechanism annoy me sometimes. As the first orcs began to collide with our forces, I moved along the back lines to survey the situation. There had to be at least fifty orcs, more even, as every time one of our own truck one down more came from the thicket of trees to take its place. I checked on the dataverse for any information. According to reports, there was a raiding party of orcs that trashed the nearby towns. Either this was a brilliant set up by whoever called us here, or a horrible coincidence. Well, It was a good thing they were slow and burly beasts, I would not likely be able to dodge any primitive move they...

"YEHARH" A scream came from from the ruins behind me as a goblin that had managed to sneak around the jumped off the stone and landed on me, plunging a small dagger into one of my crevasses.

Warning: Damage taken to frontal functions.

It wasn't anything too serious, but I watched in annoyance as my hud began to show static. I should have known these beasts would be accompanied by the sly creatures. Arrows began to rain upon our team as more of the small beings came into view. Some of the others took after them and defended the rest of the group. I needed to find my own place in the group, but first...

"DON'T TOUCH ME WITH YOUR FILTHY OILY HANDS! YOU'RE GOING TO RUST MY METAL!" I shouted as loud as my voice modulator allowed as my lasers revealed themselves, shooting a constant beam at the miscreant. It stopped laughing and screeched in pain, bubbles beginning to form on its skin. However, it quickly began to pry my elegant metal. "HOW DARE YOU TRY TO EXPOSE MY ENGINES! I quickly pulled out my arms and began slashing at the creature with my metal claws before it then ran away in fear. Just as I began to compose myself in victory. The goblin came back with two others and a stray orc seemed to have followed them in curiosity. Great.

Warning: Survival Rate Low. Proceed with caution.

The orc gave a smirk as it began charging towards me, and the goblins began taking aim with their small bows. My strategic functions kicked in as my AI compiled a list of possible actions and events. Of course, I already knew what to do, but my programming did it anyways. I quickly charged the orc, which led to a brief look of surprise on its face, before it returned to a look of confidence and humor. Don't judge me based on my size you overgrown pile of meat. As I neared the orc, the goblins began firing their arrows. I quickly sensed them and dodged accordingly. That one goblin may have gotten the jump on me, but now I know where they're at. I watched as the orc began to swing its club, and I waited for it to reach its critical point of preparation before ducking down between its legs. It swung low and slammed its club into the ground, my sensors detecting its motion and vibrations as the floor shook from the blow. As the orc looked between its legs, I had managed to sneak to behind its neck, waiting for the goblins to shoot their arrows before dealing a great slash with my claws, forcing the orc to rear its head back up in time to see the arrows shoot into his face. He roared with anger as he stared down the goblins, who were stunned and too scared to move. The orc rushed forward, club in hand, as one of the goblins gained enough courage to run away, and swung its club up into the tree, slamming the two goblins left, sending them flying into the air before landing dead in the distance. I noticed one of them was the one who pried my metal. Serves him right.

The orc gave a small grunt of satisfaction of killing what he thought were his humiliators, before turning to look for me. Unluckily for him, I was already in position above his head. I quickly trusted my claws into his eyes, causing him to screech in pain and anger before he swung his club around wildly. I quickly weaved through the swings, and one nearly caught me as I was thrown off balance by the force of the air. Once I was clear, I lured him by constantly shining my laser into his face, increasing his anger and humiliating as he rushed towards my direction, showing aside any trees he bumped into and slamming into large branches unflinching. Straight into his orc buddies.

Operation Successful. Survival Rate Increased.

The orc swung blindly at its allies, forcing them to retaliate and swing at him. Before long, more accidental hits turned the further right side of the orc army into a bloodbath, as orcs turned against each other. Some were even being killed off by some electric orbs, which were left by one of the secondaries who spoke in a rather foreign dialect. I retreated back towards the group, finding myself by the one with the accent who created the orbs.

"Any ideas for how to get these guys off our backs?" I spoke aloud as used my rubber palms to push my metal back down, as well as wiping off the disgusting oil from the goblin.. Although I would need to get my gears fixed later, at least I could fix my outer armor.

Black Mage · 08-13-2015, 08:07 PM

As I looked at the inferior organic soldier of the Empire his image began to fizzle. It fizzled for another moment until it completely dissipated, showing Abner's face clearly, save for his scalp, covered by a ball-cap with the Empire's logo on it. He was wearing it properly instead of backwards, which meant it wasn't the 9's anymore. Part of me is glad that part of history is over. I never really understood organic culture but that part seemed especially gruesome.

Hmmm. The new targeting upgrade must have a sort of facial recognition program, allowing me to discover people's identities and occupations. Solomon's a better programmer than I give him credit for. Perhaps this is too try and identify Omni

The realization did not last long however, as a rain of arrows came from the trees. Like most rains of arrows it was imprecise, and I took advantage of that by darting under the thickest branch in reach. Some might say that it was a small bit of luck that he avoided arrows in this matter, but I know better. No other B-1 had the mechanical speed I had. No mere stormtrooper had instincts to match my programming. No "space marine" could match my tactical prowess. These greenskin creatures would soon learn to fear B-1 #0684772, "Bucky the plucky".

Crrrrrrunch! The sound of metal being pierced could be heard through my audioreceptors. A quick glance revealed that my arm had been struck with a spear. This was madness! No mere Orc had the skill to and a blow on him, even wwith the distraction of arrows. Only one sort of creature had the power and strength necessary to adequately combat my greatness.

I look at the Orcs around us and their images fizzle for a moment before showing the "orc's" ture form, revealing a plethora of species. The true images of the Orc's held but two similarities, wearing simple brown robes and being armed with a metal cylinder that followed into a beam of colored plasma.

"Die Jedi Scum!!!!" My vocabulator boomed as I unleashed a torrent of blasterfire the likes of which the Jedi had never seen. Though Jedi were often credited with the ability to deflect, even redirect blasterfire with their lightsabers none of them had the skill or speed to keep up with my unparalleled skill and accuracy. Sadly with my arm damaged and the E-5 Blaster Carbine being not quite small enough to use as a pistol said unparalleled skill and accuracy weren't summonable. Extremely rarely paralleled skill and accuracy would have to do for today.

10 shots made. 6 hits, 3 to vital organs. With any other foe extremely rarely paralleled skil and accuracy would do, but these were goddang [u]jedi[/i]. Their ability to cheat nature using the supernatural power source known as "The Force" was highly inconvenient, and an unforgivable heresy. Only the Emperor was deserving of such talent. Perhaps that was why he had sent me on this mission. Because he knew the heretics were servants of Omni, and what better to slay the heretics and their master than good ole Bucky? His lethality would become legendary, second only to the Emperor Palpatine himself.

A few Jedi and Jedi Younglings were slain by his barrage of fire, but a larger one came rushing forward, shrugging his blasterfire as if he were an AT-AT. Normally Gammoreans were nothing more than common criminals, servants of the Hutts, but this one had found a new breed of crime to embrace. One that would ensure his end. he swung his lightclub in a strong vertical slash. I brought my left arm forward to intercept his strike but it is slow and clumsy from the previous attack. My ill-placed block is rended through, the Gammorean Jedi taking my left arm from between my servos, comparable to an organic bicep. My right arm keeps pulling the trigger of my E-5, layering blaster bolts into the scum.

"Take that Jedi scum!" My vocabulator booms once again as the Gammorean squeals in pain, finally losing grasp on consciousness after a fourth consecutive shot in his gut.

"You too rust-brain!" I hear the voice of the stormtrooper behind me and take a backward glance. He's heading out. Looking around I begin to realize that's probably a good idea. I might be the best Jedi Slayer under Tier 1 of Coruscant, but this is a lot of Jedi. Probably more than Palpatine's Enforcer took on during the Great Genocide 66 in the Jedi's Temple, and unlike the Enforcer I don't have an army of stormtroopers behind me. Just one.

"Commencing strategic repositioning." My vocabulator booms as I begin to backpedal. Time to get out.

Thaal Sinestro · 08-13-2015, 09:21 PM

The strange human’s weapon cracked into the sea of Grobdum’s comrades, green flesh splitting with every shot. The massive creature which he rode upon swayed to one side, its many legs franticly skittering as it weaved between attacks. A horrible hiss erupted from between its fangs and it lunged forward at Christa.

The rest of the formation split as the monster charged, but the blonde-haired warrior turned and began firing. Chunks of the arachnid’s exoskeleton flew off, white and green goo spraying into the air. Grobdum’s expression only grew more manic as he rode towards the line, leaning forward in his saddle and gripping his reigns with feverish anticipation.

The red-stripped beast hammered into the woman, smashing her into the ground. Sneering, she instantly leaned up and continued to fire, holes blossoming in the monster’s neck and head. With one final, furious howl the animal dug its mandibles into the woman’s left thigh and fell to the side. The creature’s legs slowly curled up under its belly and it tipped gently onto its back, the twisted pose confirming its death.

Christa allowed herself no celebration as she turned back to the teeming horde of savages, which still lifted their primitive stone and bone tools against her and the random assortment of secondaries present. The strange runes they had painted on their flesh hummed with a potent magical power, and Christa could not help but notice that her bullets were not cutting as deeply as they normally would. If she had to guess, the nearly-naked orcs were being protected by the runes that they wore; not that she could think of anything immediate to do with that information.

One of the massive, genderless creatures charged at her, its bone-hewn club held high in the air, a guttural, “Oogaahhh!” bellow in his throat. One shot fell into the monster’s chest, then two shots, three, four, five. Even as blood splurted out of its chest, it rushed onward, undaunted.

As Christa crouched low, ready to dodge the inevitable attack, the goblin pried itself from beneath its upturned mount and stumbled forward – directly into the orc’s path. “Gwuh?” the brute managed to grunt before the two greenskins toppled into each other, the larger one’s head whipping straight down into its club, knocking it unconscious.

The smaller goblinoid’s tall, feathered hat was pushed down tight on its eyes, and he staggered about, helplessly tugging at it. “Wot’s dis rubbish!?” it shrieked, tripping over arrows and bodies. Screaming in frustration, the tiny shaman’s body surged with magic, hot-green bolts of power flying in every direction.

The fizzling missile hit the root of the orcs, sending several scream through the air in a plume of smoke and viridian. Another split a tree, obliterating a goblin that had been clinging to the branches. A third narrowly streamed over Captain Crow’s head, singeing a lock of his hair. Another bolt of violent energy had begun to form when a firm boot flung him to the tree line.

Krugmen flipped his hair and shook his head. “Little bastard,” he scoffed, flamboyantly blasting the unconscious orc with his rifle, then his pistol.

Grobdum finally peeled the hat from his eyes and gazed out over the battlefield. The orcs were miraculously dying in droves, the goblins had been all but blasted form existence, and he had been injured. It was at this point that he did what any masterful goblin shaman would do: hide.

Cowering in a ball at the edge of the of the battlefield, Grobdum shivered behind a tree and witness the gruesome battle as it unfolded. As orcs fell, the strange mass of random people seemed to dispatch them with absolute ease. Unheard of! Inconceivable! Orcs certainly preferred to overwhelm their enemies with numbers, but the brawny, sinew-muscled, gigantic masters of melee combat were inexplicably falling like tiny snotlings at the hands of these… randoms. They were nobodies, nothings, destroying a wave of the most savage warriors the world had, or ever would, ever know. Even if they were heroes, they should be facing more difficulty than this!

If they were orcs, he would have a new boot kicking him around and telling him what to do by now! That was the natural order: might makes right. These randos were mighty, and he expected a new set of boots in his ass soon if he didn’t end up dying in the mix. He would be killed with the rest of his allies. Unless…

The shivering, piss-scented goblin glanced out from behind his cover, and saw a tiny wooden man struggling to claim an axe from a dead Big ‘Un. His fang-toothed maw spread into a wide grin underneath his hilariously large, hooked nose. Rushing out from the underbrush, he greeted his new ally with a cheery, “Oi, you li’l, uh, woody grot!” He pointed to the massive axe, “Yoo need dat dere choppah?”

As the tiny puppet recoiled from the tiny shaman, he tore the bloodied stone weapon from the orcs hand and offered it to the marionette, “Wot, ya gots somefin’ ta be ‘fraid a’? We gobbos are right clevah, an’ yoo could use a ‘and!”

Strazio Rockwell · 08-13-2015, 10:04 PM

That was a close call, too close for the Bloodlance. He righted himself and wiped dust from his crimson cloak. The familiar red of blood began to stain the bandages wrapping his stump. The bright red fluid wormed its way from the wrappings and whipped about in the air. Several tendrils of blood flicked furiously, growing in size as Isaac drew more blood from his veins. Carnage and chaos filled the battlefield, the orcs charged forth with no regard for their own safety. He grimaced at the sight of so much death and resolved to try and minimize the casualties caused by his vicious friends. Without so much as a word the red whips shot forth, snaking in between the ranks of the orcs.

The crimson lances twisted between the tide of verdant bodies, Isaac only wished to disable his attackers. His hemoglobin weaponry wrapped around the crude tools of war that the orcs had fashioned from second-rate materials. Throughout the ranks of the orcs he tried his best to shatter their weapons and remove them from the fight. To his surprise weaponry was of no consequence to the bloodthirsty orcs, in fact they seemed to relish the chance to rip and tear at their foes with their fists. Isaac cursed under his breath and reeled his weapon in, the mass of bloody spears swirled around his body. He knew that nothing short of death would stop their charge, but he couldn’t bring himself to slay another living creature.

The soldier in his heart urged him to strike, urged him to kill and defend his comrades. The man stood conflicted, faced with the harsh reality of the world. Kill or be killed, fight or be defeated and tossed aside. Isaac knew the choice all too well, his very existence was proof of that cold hard truth of life.

“The world’s simple Isaac, at least for guys like you and me” Romearo’s voice echoed in his memories “fight or die, kill or perish underfoot. Mankind was built on that philosophy Isaac.”

No.

No, Isaac had rejected that harsh truth long ago. As dark as this world could be, as twisted as its inhabitants could become, Isaac refused to kill. His swirling blood froze and turned its attention to the oncoming horde. Several hundred points formed in the mass of crimson, tendrils shot forth from the mass of blood. The spears shot forth, twisting and turning at sharp angles and random vectors. The end result was a writhing wall of crimson spears all connected to his stump of an arm. Isaac fell to his knee and tried to concentrate on maintaining the wall. If... If I fail more will die he thought. The Bloodlance bit the inside flesh of his cheeks, gripping onto the pain to stay conscious. His heartbeat was weak, and his blood pressure was dangerously low.

Stay strong.

Stay strong for her.

The green-tide crashed into the large wall of bloody spears. Like a rock in a stream, the bloody wall parted the oncoming storm. They raged against the living partition, striking at the liquid hoping to tear it apart. Every blow sent blood flying, creating a momentary hole in the near impenetrable defense. However one massive orc charged straight into the barrier, bashing away the spear-like tendrils with devastating swings of its mace. The brute surged forth, shattering through the thick liquid with surprising ease. Isaac did not notice its lumbering approach until his face was broadsided by the creature’s club.

Reeling.

Isaac was sent reeling to the soft ground. A sickening squelch accompanied his collapse as the macabre wall deformed and splashed harmless to the ground. No respite was offered by Isaac’s new found foe and the creature was upon him in moments. The old man was anemic and exhausted and the orc took full advantage of his weakness. A withering haymaker crashed into Isaac’s jaw, forcing his world black. Everything sounded so distant, so insignificant to the injured man. The next blow came hard and fast as the orc tried to pummel Isaac into the ground.

Kill him! Defend yourself, do something! Isaac’s inner soldier screamed. There was nothing stopping him from slaying the orc, besides a promise he made long ago.

From the proverbial heavens came his savior, a yellow-colored pegasus covered in silvery-black armor. She spiraled tightly, turning her body into a makeshift drill. The poor orc never saw her coming until she had already collided into his massive frame. The impact jarred Isaac back to the land of the living and his eyes narrowed on his savior.

“Are you okay?” she asked, keeping her keen eyes on the battlefield.

Isaac spit a disgusting mixture of phlegm and blood into the grass and responded “I’ll be alright.”

“Good! Be careful!” Raw wasted no time and took to the skies once more.

The Bloodlance stumbled to his feet. His body quivered and shook from the blood loss and he found his vision blurring. Weakly he stumbled back behind the front lines, pressing his back against the stone temple. As much as he hated to admit it he was spent, there was nothing he could do now but watch and wait.

Gildarts · 08-13-2015, 11:56 PM

Spider guts. In her hair.

The hot splash of blood crawled on her skin. Christa had de-throned the giant goblin Grobdum, who rode into the bloody massacre with the wave of primitive orcs on a huge freakin' arachnid. Blast after shuddering blast, the insect of war went down, finally collapsing at her feet, too close to the flash of her gun. Even with its life taken, the threat of death lingered in the air, hanging within the shaggy folds of tethered pain.

The blaze of eternal war rushed all of her senses at once. The veteran gathered herself, ringing ears and all, as she was able to take a rare glimpse at the battle that surrounded her. With a steadied sip of air, she drank it all in. Over her shoulder she traced the blurred lines of war-hardened faces and noticed her target was missing.

Within the throes of battle the distinguished pale-skinned enemy had been swept away and slipped under her radar. He had escaped.

The steely glint of her eyes flashed with cold analysis as it swooped over the group and sliced through the hellfire like a sharpened blade.

With a single breath she called her will back into the raging battle.

Three freshly planted darts stung at her arms. The needles pricked at her skin while she gave them nothing but a fleeting glance. This was probably about the time where she was expected to fall over, collapsing to a kneel from the poison's efficiently. Another orc charged her after seeing he had hit his target; confidence surged in his chest as he knew the venom would take but a second to take effect.

It rushed into her bloodstream and the orc took a cheap swing, prematurely assuming that her limbs would be too heavy to dodge. With the flick of her wrist, the three feathered darts implanted in her forearm fell to the ground. A flummoxed expression creased the creature's brow, he has hadn't expected the girl to be impervious to his poison. A challenge cackled in the air while her pale eyes met the creature's hollow depths of thick black.

Too close in proximity now, she surprised the orc by charging straight for him. There was now no room for error and her pistol was thrown to the ground in a fatal collision that would have broken a normal human's bones. With the tackle's impact, air was knocked from her lungs in an unclaimed gust. Her head pounded like a whip as it bounced off the uprooted ground. In her adrenaline-flooded cognizant state, the rich scent of soil and fresh grass itched her nose as the brute used all of his forced weight to crush her.

The screaming lungs ached in her chest as they fought to stretch outward. Meanwhile, her arms struggled still, pinned at her narrow wrists, clutched like steel shackles by the beast's meaty green hands. It was nearly impossible to escape, perhaps she had acted in error by rushing apart from the rest. The beast saw an opening as he stared down at the feeble doubt in her eyes, it was then when the orc took this chance of weakness and bashed his thick forehead into hers. With the sting of impact, her skull spun while the doubled gravity shifted and the dizzy 'pair' of orcs throttled her neck.

Within its blood-thirsty rage, Christa plainly saw the ruthless monster that it was. Past her freshly crimson cheeks and within her deprived muscles, something broke.

A wave of shock hit her, as though an epiphany from long ago arose to the surface of her mind. Like a sinking sailboat, cast under the dark waves of an unforgiving storm. Death closed around her neck. Christa, however, had found something much more fearful than the natural order of surrender.

The consequence of a hunter's failure, was dying at the hands of such a monster. Her utter trepidation christened the moment as the chill crept to the corners of her soul. The fresh fire of determination was lit by the retaliation that shouted from within and with a single weak hand, Christa faced the fear that chased her as she promised the vain death of her sister would not become her own.

...

Following her drowning choke was the crackling sounds of the air as it clung to the pipes of her throat. A slow, deep wheeze caved in her chest as her bruised arm reached out to her side as she grasped for an empty hope.

Blades of grass pricked at her palm as her hand patted the earth, searching for the touch of cold metal. Her head shifted, while her mind fought to stay focused. The woman's fleeting vision clouded as the rain of blood around her never ceased.

Another slap against empty earth and her irises sunk to the side and Christa attempted one last reach for the misplaced gun. Numbed pallid fingertips fumbled against the smooth ridge of metal and her thoughts strained to stay active, awake as she fought the welcoming shadows of death.

Trigger..

The inner resolution she had used as a momentary store of strength evaporated like the lost breath in her lungs. Her purple lips coiled into a smile as it only took the eased crook of her elbow to align her sights on the orc strangling her and at the touch of the trigger, her survival was ensured her survival once more.

Heavy gasps filled her lungs with air as the slowed thrum of her heartbeat that had drummed in her ears sped up with new life.

Another breath was taken as she shoved the orc's body off of her. Blood had splattered on her lips, which she wiped off with the back of her hand with a scowl of disgust. A contemplating expression touched the corners of her features with frustration. This triumph had been too close and while she was the one standing over the corpse, Christa couldn't help but to feel the nagging claw at the back of her mind. One that tempted her with doubt. One that told her even Omni wasn't enough to save her.

Another dart slid by her ear and she rolled her weary bloodshot eyes. Oh not again.

Gamzee Makara · 08-14-2015, 12:37 AM

With an indignant grunt, I haul my sorry body from the ground just in time to watch this pirate fellow dispatch the troll. It is awe inspiring, to say the least. He moves with the agility and speed and technique of a seasoned combatant. It is clear this man is no stranger to such encounters. With the constant, sustained assault the troll has been taking from various sources, he succumbs to Crow's onslaught. I watch with an amused look on my face as he drives his strange, intricate weapon into his enemies heart and WHY DO I NOT HAVE ONE OF THOSE!?

The beast falls, the ground quaking beneath my feet. Its life spurts forth, soiling and soaking the earth below. No matter. It is clear I did not make matters worse, as the continuous amount of damage the plasma-fire caused certainly weakened the troll. Yes. I helped. Me. I did some of this.

I analyze the battlefield. So much carnage, so so much. In a way, it is tragically beautiful. Or just beautiful really. At any rate, I jog to the gathering of secondaries before me. The small group consists of Captain Crow, The General, whose name escapes me, and another secondary I have not had the pleasure of meeting.

"... say we haul wind, and smartly? Think this place has been measured fer its chains for a little while now."

Quaint. I address the three of them. It is my turn to put in my two cents.

"That is an understatement. We are outnumbered and these monsters admittedly capable fighters, and are certainly not green to the battlefield.

Puns now? I have sunk to a new low.

"We need to rally the rest of our fellows and make haste for an exit." I jerk my thumb back to the forest ruins behind us.

"There is likely a larger complex of ruins that lead to a temple of some sort either underground or on the surface. I fear we would be running into a literal dead end, if a defensible one. We could perhaps ride out this storm from the confines of whatever temple or ruins we find, but I advise against such a plan. It would likely result in our meaningless deaths, as the enemy's numbers seem endless. We could run for the treeline, but whatever group we manage to pull together would likely be split apart from the dense forestry and constant chase the orcs will undoubtedly give, and on top of that, they know this land far better than you or I. I do not think our forces will survive this onslaught for much longer, at least, not without casualties.

As I hear the words coming from my mouth, I begin to realize how terrible our options are. We let ourselves be surrounded and caught off guard, and no amount of denying it or quarreling will change that.

"We all have a common goal now, and that is escape. I suggest we work together until we are free of these annoying brutes. Now, unless any of you have a better escape route, I suggest gathering our allies and running for the cover of the woods."

The more I talk of this particular plan, the more I begin to doubt it's success rate. I am a scientist, not a strategist. I simply see logic, but logic has no meaning in this situation, in this world.

God I hope one of these strange beings has some sort of strategic knowledge.

The Grey Man · 08-14-2015, 12:56 AM

Amidst the heat of battle, the fellow who’d caught the troll on fire (then gotten his ass beat) came up to us. He started on about our options, and his summary was pretty accurate: I had come in late, but even I knew that we were pretty much up the creek if we didn’t do something.

“… I suggest we work together until we are free of these annoying brutes. Now, unless any of you have a better escape route, I suggest gathering our allies and running for the cover of the woods." He concluded.

He clearly thought of himself as a brainy type, but I just had one question for this guy.

“Excuse me,” I said, in my native tongue, ”do you speak German?”

He looked at me, surprised, and responded in Deutsch. “Why, yes, but—”

“That’s all I wanted.” I said bluntly, in English. “For now, I mean. There will be time for more conversation later. As for your musings, I think that we’d be better off behind cover than standing around talking out here; one of our men, a Mr. Clayton, is injured. It’d be a boon to all of us to return to the wall he’s taking cover behind and work out a better long-term solution from relative safety. Besides, we can—whoa!”

My words were cut off, as one of the orcs charged at me, tackling me to the ground. I wrestled with the beast, my rifle having clattered from my grasp, and with his bare hands he tore a gash across my face; he’d been aiming for my eyes, but your boy isn’t that stupid so I’d moved my head, and he’d gotten my left cheek instead. Grunting with effort, I trapped the beast in a bear hug, and, grabbing my rifle, brought the butt of the gun down hard into the thing’s forehead. It didn’t move after that. I decided it’d be better to keep an eye on our secured perimeter as I spoke from now on.

“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted,” I shouted, kicking the unconscious orc as I started up another round of suppressive fire, “It would be a good idea to at least try to get behind cover, so that, well,” I paused, motioning with my pistol towards the orc before resuming the barrage, “so that things like that won’t happen to us!”

With these words, I broke into a sprint, barreling through the line of orcish warriors that lay between us and Clayton’s position. They swung at me with swords and knives; I rose my rifle to block the knife, and, with a twist and a flourish, just barely evaded the arc of the sword's swing. I'm pretty sure that bastard just cut the tip of my warhawk off. Mid-turn, I raise my pistol and stick it into his belly, filling him with hot laser before tearing off again to meet with Clayton. I didn't look back to see if the others had followed me.

It looked like they were starting to close on where the gentleman explorer was; I could see the man popping up to take pot-shots with his gun, but he was severely outnumbered. If we didn’t arrive soon, he’d be a goner for sure. "Hey, horse!" I called to the creature in the sky, not breaking stride, "we could use some support over here!"

I was nearly there...

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