FROSTFIRE

[Diogen 3729]

 

 

OOC: This was an RP-encounter and therefore is only known to those who witnessed it IRP. 

 

 

[!] An enormous eye of Iblees loomed over Numendil.

Rok Nardin - The Mad Queen

 

 

Faint whispers rang within the ears of the inhabitants of Numendil, followed by an eerie chill. A mist that enveloped them.

 

Such a sensation of dread and cold was not all too unfamiliar to some, as its source grew close; the Frost Witches, mounted on their warbeasts, followed by a swarm of horribly disfigured, grotesque demons and imps.

 

With them, they carried an odd banner. One, that pulsated a faint glow, wisps dancing upon its surface. A mist escaped it, as the Witches drew upon its power.

 

Flesh, I smell.
Echoed the voice of a Witch.

The screams of Man ensued, as the creatures of the North flooded the square, bringing with them two of Numendil’s citizenry with them as hostages as leverage. Their warnings unheeded, these hostages were met with their quick demise.

 

It was then that the guards of Numendil, comprised of Ser Victor Ronin, Ser Marius Vourkerhardt, and Ser Eldacar appeared, supported by Conan and Commander Alteon of Garenbrig on the flank, valiantly fighting off the Darkspawn that had overtaken their square. 

 

Conan struck his boomsteel weapon, forcing a thunderclap, which reared the creatures off their warbeasts, leveling the fields. Alteon attempted a charge with his horse, only for it to immediately fall, impaled by spikes of ice, forcing him to the ground.

 

The demons charged against the guards of Numendil, pelting them with axes and malflame, as imps fell like flies to lances. A horrid demon flung aside potions alike. Warlocks commanded their battle ready minions to their eager deaths. Walls of soul eating flame held narrow points across the vibrant city of Numendil.

 

SLAUGHTER THEM!
Cried the angered Mother.

 

The march of the undead was unrelenting. The Frost Mother, beside her Witches, rapidly summoned blankets of spikes after blankets of spikes. The ground beneath those who fought turned slippery, and spectral arcs of ice viciously struck the defenders. Some, even suspiciously tore through their plating.

 

Spike after spike circled Conan from below, their tips cracking against plate, yet hindering his movement. His many attempts at breaking himself free were but in vain, finding himself with twice the amount surrounding him.

 

Some guards found themselves sapped of their strength, collapsing upon the ground, as Malflame  shrouded the others. Ser Victor Rorin watched his peer, unable to move, as he was bashed to the ground. While he wrestled against a Hellhound.

 

Daughter? SISTER!
Screamed the Mother and Daughter in unison.

 

The Frost-Uruk laid limp, in her attempt at holding Conan and Alteon back. Yet her efforts were not in vain, leaving the poor Alteon horribly damaged as Malflame consumed him.

 

“STAND UP!” Screamed Conan, as he struggled to stand his own ground ‘pon the slippery ice, amidst the many spikes that pelted him. A bolt of ice penetrated his foot, digging into the earth below, and finally, the sickness of the Void collapsing him to the ground. 

 

Alteon stood up, yet his efforts were in vain. The badly-battered man could find no proper way to the Mother, his paths relentlessly blocked by walls of ice.

 

One guard’s ankle was tied to a demon’s horse, dragged away from Numendil.

 

They scream, they flee.

A chorus of voices echoed.

 

 

 

 

No corpse was left behind.

Those who lived, were taken away, nowhere to be seen.

All would remain were slowly-melting structures of ice.

 

 

[ThatFunkyBunch 2818]

A demon returns back to the boat to enjoy its bounty. The time of Mourning Gashadokuro was over..

[_Leyd 1010]

The Eye of Iblees marveled his make. 

[ColonelKuehl1 560]

Tezllion'uth the Prince of Dread rode along the roads making a display of a knight being dragged across the pavement, he had escaped counting to lead more chaos in the coming years.

 

Meanwhile within Celia'nor an Aheral Dreki shouted as he looked to the missive, shouting various profanitys toward the north as he shouted aloud "CURSE YOUUUUUU NAAAAAAAEEEEELLLEEEEE!" 

 

Zavar looks dismissively toward the missive the great and powerful Poncho Goblin ponders if he must intervene however immediately grows distracted by his desire to forge a high density boomsteel frying pan. 

 

 

[Cryptic 549]

The bloodied and battered body of Ser Alteon was sent to the infirmary, losing life as we speak.

 

Spoiler

 

[KidKrinkles 2043]

Ser Victor felt his Pyre Knight's poleaxe; a beautiful make, an aurum finish, unable to find purchase against the chains that dragged him. It happened quickly. He was on his feet one moment, standing atop Marius, covering him with the reach of his weapon. The next? He was whipped through the roads of Numenost, down a back alley. He heard a snap, and suddenly, a portal.

 

He was... in and out. When he was dragged along, he almost found a focus, a zen, to breath, and strike true against the infernal chains. But as he was pulled along, time dilated. He saw an arm cocked, a javelin, in hand, the legion's spear poised to puncture his plate, gambeson, and person and stick him through.

 

He waved the pole-axe defensively, but the wild strike yielded little. The point went right into his ribs; below his lungs, above his stomach and liver. He leaked, and felt blood well inside his chest, and his consciousness was varied.

 

It was that sulfuric smell that woke him. Like smelling salts almost. The rank, putrid smell bubbled his mind to the front, and he did manage one last swing on the chain, crashed into the dirt, javelin-side up. The knight gargled lowly in the alley.

 

"I'm a-aite...!"

 

He did not feel alright. Tezllion'uth's name evaded him. But the visage of the warlock lingered at the edge of his eyelids, somewhere surrounded by a sulfuric smell, the buzz of his ally's insects, and the rattle of a chain... just beyond consciousness, and before his mindscape. The figure lurked there as he was operated on in the somber silence of the medic bay.

[Eurielle 1189]

The eastern warrior who adorned their armor with the long nosed visage of Tengu, a creature of Oyashiman folk lore, sat herself in an icy cave. She cut the cords attaching the lamellar plates to her helmet as she started repair, idly watching what was to become of the mortal men who were taken.

[Wizry 1218]

19 minutes ago, ThatFunkyBunch said:

A demon returns back to the boat to enjoy its bounty. The time of Mourning Gashadokuro was over..

A rotten Inferni arm laid in the boat that the Demon returned to, mottled and bloodied - a reminder of the Templar that approached him all the same. A note laid to the side of it,

 

"Bastard-daughter of the Spirits,

I know of your past and of your broken creeds. This arm will look much like yours in times to come."

[Diogen 3729]

Oddly enough, the sensation of dread that loomed above them did not dissipate, upon the departure of the Witches.

[Venomous_Pup 2978]

"WINTER IS COMING!" Screeches a Chaos Witch as she felt a chill 

[Ryanark 2738]

Beówulf sat pondering, flecks of cinder spilling from his maw; the table whence he sat at was scorched and blackened with raging dragonsflame.

"Where is my Thegn?"

 

Spoiler