Triumph

[X3N0 515]

Spoiler

 

 

The following is a POV of my character during the skirmish of Nor’asath. Big ty to the ST for an amazing event!

 

 

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The 'ker, Kysnaros sat on the walls of that city of Maehr, violet hues scanning down the roads for any sign of the Mori - along with various other Nor'asathi positioned there, they were waiting. It was drawn out, the silence permeating throughout those woodlands, like the calm before the storm. His figure was clad in armor, from head to toe, so that his face would be obscured. The elf let out a weary sigh, one wrought of exhaustion, masked by his helm. Yet that silence was fleeting, distant sounds flowing throughout. The battlements readied themselves, cannons being manned, weapons readying in anticipation. And then, the distant sound of buzzing was heard, emitting from the depths of the treeline, breaking that drawn out silence fully.

 

Boom! A cannon ball was sent flying out towards the swarm, to no avail, various arrows being shot towards the locusts with more precision, yet they continued their advance towards the city, acid being spewed from their maws, luckily missing his figure, yet unfortunately making their marks on the cannons perched on the battlements, rendering them inoperable. A curse was excluded from his veiled mouth as he took steps closer to the edge, jutting out his spear in an attempt to hit one of those swarming locusts, blade making its mark. It did not stop them. The tide continued to advance, though the defenders were surely making progress. 

 

And then, foreign arrows whirled throughout, striking one or two of the stationed defenders on the walls, his form rushing towards the lift, going down it, and into the city. As he stepped out of the gatehouse’s door, those violet hues of his caught something, someone, making their descent down the wall. Kysnaros then surged forth, to investigate the scaler. When the elf neared the mori soldier, he halted, the scaling also doing so, a black vial being hastily thrown at the maehr’s face as his blade met the mori’s side, sinking into the man’s flesh. Crack! That vial made its mark on the elf’s head, the acid spilling on his right eye, thus leaving it damaged, permanently so, perhaps. Curses in both vel’luah and blackspeech were made as he backed up, shield dropping onto the ground, clockwork artificed hand grasping at his eye. His form then surged forth in a bout of rage the polearm once more being thrusted at the soldier’s figure, felling it with the aid of a well placed bolt

 

Footsteps were taken towards the entrance to Nor’asath’s depths then, ephemeral mist shrouding his form as sanguinic ichor trickled down his nose, a fleeting fit of coughs being given as he neared those caverns, the smog dissipating fully as he entered. When he delved deeper and to the side of the Primarch, he could barely see anything as he reached some open space, smokey haze filling the room, and a tide of spiders scurrying about, their limbs flailing and attacking anyone near them. A spider was stabbed, yet that smoke became too much, and with the Vindicator’s cry of retreat he began to slowly climb up to the upper levels, away from that choking smog.

Yet that day was a success for the most part, the cave’s entrance being barricaded, and all other attacks against Nor’asath being thwarted by the efforts of the mali’ker and their allies. It was a day of triumph, surely. At what cost, though? His eye had been maimed, and surely people were lost defending. With no bids of farewell, he departed, back to that snow-covered town of Lumbridge, within the far reaches of the world. 

 

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Edited April 24, 2023 by X3N0
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