[PK POST] A SNOWED CURE

[ronin_champloo 5951]

A SNOWED CURE

Issued on the 14th of The Grand Harvest, 1763

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(OOC: Âmul, the Olog that bore the skulls of others.)

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The lands of Krug were filled with strife, a deafening silence prevailing within the War-Nation. An individual bearing azure fabrics would later tread, cautious steps following his wake. The ‘Fenn journeyed merely for himself, to desire what had been before; To show that he wasn’t ash, that even in his weakened form. -  He was still Varan Atmorice.

 

The ‘Fenn was to do battle with an Olog, the monstrosity that had claimed the lives of many of his ilk. The beast donned armor of all previous attempts; Bones clung onto his being, a silent tale spoken of what had been before. A decrepit warhammer grasped onto his left. The 10” tall muscle bound beast roared a beastial taunt. Charcoal skin, crimson eyes peering at Varan as if he was prey. The Olog threw the gauntlet, signaled the call and the ‘Fenn followed. They were watched by many of the Uruk, bored and wanting of violence. - To see this man ripped to shreds, to turn onto yet another piece of attire. The almost sickly man held more mystery than accounted for.

 

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The battle commenced and the two began to dance, weaving tales not of elegance but a cold brutality. None cared for the other side, merely to emerge victorious and bloodied. Every heavy strike brought forth from the beast was met with a dance, the ‘Fenn’s boots almost gliding upon the sand.

 

Varan moved forth, a wispal energy about his hands while the Olog thought to launch his warhammer at the ‘Fenn. A relentless charging and fight about his miasma. The strike hit, his chest broken; The ribs crying out in pain, in pure ardent screeching. The Elf was broken, his hands feeble and shaking as the presence would charge onto him. The halberd that Varan wielded soon came arisen, the blade sinking deep onto the head of the Olog. The skull cracking somewhat in all regards, the beast falling aside. Panic and fear soon creeped onto his form, his hand then arisen and grasping the monster’s skull. The area about them distorting onto a beautiful reverie. The halberd forgone, a shortsword soon grasped. The Olog laid motionless upon the desolate sands, blood seeping from his skull.

 

“Wub da zkah..” A voice would mutter out.

 

Slient strides would follow Varan as he quickly moved onto the skull of the Olog, the blade glinting within the barren sunlight. An attempt made to cut open the leathery skin, to reveal the skull of the beast. A blood-curling roar was soon released; A deafening screech about them.

 

“GLOooooOOooOOOoOOB”

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(OOC: Varan fighting the accursed beast.)

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In this blind bloodlust did the Olog flail about, his attack lacking rhythm and form but merely a fear of what was laid before him. A wild act that spoke of his brutality, his loathsome love for hate. In this eyeless contempt for violence did Varan act. - The blade seeking the calf of the Beast, more pain granted to this spawn of bloodlust. From what felt like seconds, the Olog’s sight was returned to him. His muscle-bound grasp held over the feeble ‘Fenn, lifting him up with nothing but scorn. Adrenaline coursed through Varan’s veins. Teeth clenched, saliva drooling out in this pain. The weapon wielded and soon swung during this brutal exchange. The Olog fell limp. The lifeless carcass soon falling onto his knees. Memories of old then pulsing within the fading body of the beast. He’d gurgle, the Olog trembling with nothing but pain. A cold chill soon settling onto his body.

 

“GRuuuUUuuuUuuUB.” 

 

Varan gasped for air, his form crushed and falling onto the floor with despair. His ribs broken, internal bleeding within him. He crawled for it was all that he could do, the events around him were nothing but noise to the ‘Fenn. The words would screech out, the maw opened in avarice. The Olog fell upon the floor, his battered and broken body set onto the heartless sands.

 

“GRuUUuuuuUUuB.”

 

The battle was won, the Uruk were speechless. - Honour upheld, the Uruk escorted the injured Elf to safety. The bones of the dead retrieved, the skull beheaded from the Olog. - A burial to be granted, a silent requiem spoken for those felled by the beast.

 

And so, he left; adrenaline still rushing through his veins.

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

Spoiler

OOC: The challenge was completed. 

 

[Callum 1009]

Varan stumbles away from the towering walls of Krugmar, a small smile on his face as he finally proves himself.

[AmericanSimp 512]

Was a good run, and a good fight. Love the post aswell! +1

[Ofrider 153]

Would look upon the body, head bowing, standing there, arm over chest in silence before opening his eyes “Lat flatted well brudda...” he states, watching for a view more moments and walking away, face grim, face confused. What kind of thing could fell an Olog? What monsters lie out there in this world to fight? Would he ever have the chance to fight one? Or would he die, like Amul.

[Dragonslayerelf 654]

Shakul’Gorkil, surprised by the honor of the elf and even moreso by the victory thereof, begins to consider the immense task of creating Olog armor for the Ogr clan, fantasizing about not only the complexity of such a task but also the absolute beasts that would be created as a product of the union of heavy plate and a killing machine.

 

((This is genuinely lit RP, kinda reminding me why I actually came to this server in the first place.))