-= Dangerous Roads. =-

[shortchangehero 4217]

 

The screeching noise rang loudly as his blurred vision faded in and out of darkness, a sharp pain shooting through his left arm. As his sight slowly returned to him, the half-orc rolled himself onto his stomach, before using his one good arm to push himself up. His other was broken, it would prove of no use. Rising to one knee, then both feet, he'd stumble about bringing a hand to his aching head. His weapon, where was his weapon. Looking about wildly, he'd find it laying a few feet in front of him on the gravel road. The half-orc walked over towards it, grabbing it with his able hand. His sight was now locked on the downed cultist, a woman covered in bloodied purple robes. He'd begin trudging over towards her, dragging the great-sword along behind him. He'd soon tower over her, looking down at her mask. She was helpless to do anything, violently coughing up blood and grasping at a large gash across her neck. The half-orc would soon take his foot, gently placing it atop her neck before slowly applying the pressure behind his heavy weight. He'd only stop after hearing a faint crack.

 

"GROKA!"

 

The man's voice cried out from behind the half-orc. Groka would soon turn to a sight he thought impossible, until today. Before him, his outlaw comrades lay dead or soon to be dead at the hands of purple robes cultists. Some tried to crawl off the side of the road, only to be impaled on swords and spears. Others knelt begging for mercy only to be met with a swift death. Groka watched as the one who called his name, his good farfolk friend Hanasun, was knocked unconscious by the apparent leader of the cultists. Afterwards, the cultist leader would soon lock their gaze onto Groka, walking up beside them a crimson priestess wielding a large twisted staff.

 

The half-orc froze in fear. He wasn't scared of the cultists who slaughtered his brothers, but the fact that he couldn't do anything about it. All he could do was run.

 

Word would soon spread. The lord of the roads had met his match.

[DarkElfs 160]

The priestess wake up later that day at a frozen like room, only rub at her sore neck for a moment, her memory fuzzy as all hell as she'd look about a bit puzzled before moving off to her old base of operation to change clothing once again and her form all together.

[_Leyd 1010]

"WE WILL RISE, HAIL THE FOUR PILLARS!" Shouts the Leader of this group of Cultist, a visage covered in joy and the blood of those slain.

[adamc2000 1385]

'hmm' anwar would say as he stays hidden in a cave from players who want to harm him [yes anwars paranoid] 
(+1 respect man for being humble on your post. rare to find that these days.)

[Inferno_Ougi 1454]

 

"I RUN THESE ROADS."

[ashybearrr 3]

Jesabelle would sit on that road with the gash wounds on her head, the bruises on her head and eye, and her bleeding busted lip. Her arms were crossed beneath her bust as she looked quite pissed and emotionless, at the same time. "Hail."

[Smaw 2376]

As the many purple trees sprang forth across the roads, the hope of a world clear of bandits grew closer still.

[firegirl7894523 247]

Carsandra closes her eyes, having delt with these people personally. She'd rub her eyes, "First slavers now Cultists, better just stay at home were it's safe. At least the slaver's had a shed of dignity."

 

[5itty 66]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.