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The New Frontier

24

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  • Dan o Shanter (US1)Dan o Shanter (US1) Posts: 396
    edited 12.10.2015
    All of a sudden, things were absolutely clear cut in Dougal's mind, icy crrystal edges clearer than any water he'd ever seen or sailed: he could see the curves and intricacies of the trees, not just as a lumped together "treeline"...he could see each separate twig weave in and out of the mass, each leaf, each larger bough, could see each and every one of these as a separate entity in itself and yet an intricately woven part of the whole; he could see the riders' movements from the point of view of those same entities; he could almost see the wind as a separate thing from the sharpness with which he saw the patterns in the rippling it created, just as its sound was impossibly clear, its feel against his skin, its cold sting sharp with the spite of the dark woodland faeries.  And one heavy limb did indeed have a patch where ash borers had started on it; and given the dance the riders were spinning around Jane trying to avoid her white fire swordstrokes and encircle her...in that order, and their movements indicated that their goal was increasingly stemming from the former motivation, not the latter;  Jane he couldn't see, nearly, at all: whatever transformation she was undergoing made her burn so brightly in his inner vision that it made it nearly impossible to look at her with his mortal eyes either. He paused for exactly the time it took to recite the first three tree ogham to himself and then aimed his tabor pipe at the point the borers had started weakening the elbow of the limb and gave it the full force of "March of the Cameron Men", which he judged to be the tune likest to a gale, as well it should be, since the battle in question was indeed decided as much by the ferocity of the storm that swept in just as the Camerons charged as it was their own likeness to a vast wind sweeping out of the mountains.  He grinned as a sudden gust hit the treetops, and he heard the creak and groan of wood giving way just over the heads of two riders whose paths he had seen were likely to run afoul of each other at that point in space and time
    Post edited by Dan o Shanter (US1) on

    Proud non ruby-whiner
  • JackelKight (US1)JackelKight (US1) Posts: 533
    edited 04.10.2015

    A joyful frenzy was upon Jane.  Dancing and twirling her sword, toying with the riders she laughed.  Sometime during all this white flames had started to flow from her blade.  A gust of wind thrown off  the riders and two of their horses bolted into each other.  Almost lazily Jane finish the  riders of the two horses.  She crackles as lighting flashed and sent another horse scrambling away against its rider's commands.  She let it go.  A wicked grin spread across her face as she cut into the last three riders.

    ==================================================================================

    Mick stared in horror at the transformation that have overcame his sister.  The white light blaring brightly barley registered to his mind as the shear cruelty that seems to emanate from Jane.  The vile laughter that left her lips was not that of his sister, but that of some dreadful monster cloaked in human flesh.   With a chill Mick relished it was the same laughter of the murderous duke that leads the majority of the eastern armies of Ulthoor's forces.  The laughter of their father.

    Post edited by JackelKight (US1) on
  • As the laughter died away. A very big booming sound was heard from the woods , Dragon Ryder had landed afar space from Mick. The tall grey haired man wearing a suit of armour black & gold with a sword of dragons fire flashed from the blade killing a monster that had  appeared from nowhere. The Dragon Ryder said to Mick fear not for I & Piff mean you no harm, as we were flying by when we saw the battle. The names Sir Raymond 56 at your service, we are on an adventure seeking wealth, gold, honor, etc. I hear there are great Castle full of gold, and such. Say was that your sister I heard awhile ago.  Well Piff & I must be going as we have much to do.
    Sir Raymondo 56 @usa1
  • Piff & I see an army of orges marching toward a band of farmers armed only with their farming tools, they fight for their very lives, cutting & slashing the orges.  Just as the orges are gaining the upper hand, Piff lets go with a roar sounding like thunder, followed by a very hot blast of dragon fireballs that surpise me & I've known this dragon since first hatched. He's very for his young dragon age, & I never seen him this angry before.  Then I spy the reason for his wrath, the orges have cornered a very beautiful tall full figured lass with long flaming red hair, green eyes like jade, lips like rose petals, & mad as Hades defending a newly hatched dragon a female by the way Piff, is reacting to it all. As we land not far from the young lass & her lady dragon, she turns to face Piff & I, with a look of pure rage.  I dismount from Piff''s back, I raise my hands to let the lass know we mean no harm, . But she is still waving a long sickle blade very sharp as the dead orges laying about her, show cleary that she can very well defend herself.  I start to tell her my name, "I'm Sir Raymondo 56, & my dragon friend is called Piff, he's the one that saw your trouble, with the orges.  The lass still not sure, if I'm friend or foe, steps forward with her long sickle at the ready, she says, quite calmly, that her name was Lady Victoria a Dragon Ryder from a far away land beyond the sea.  She & her armed farmer band where heading back to her homeland when they were attacked, by the raiding party of orges.  Lady Victoria said that she & her band had everything under control, but thanks anyway for our little help. She dismisses us if we were just so much less than common folk, I say oh well, Ladyship we'll just be on our way if you do not mind. We have places to go,many things to do. & even Ladies that may or may not need our help, glad to have been of some small help as you put it. She gives me a look as if she wanted to take my head, but I just smiled a smile of one that has done a deed for a Lady in need. As I turn away to mount my dragon to fly away, she says, wait one second you rogue knight, you can't leave like that, without a reward, I say to her, a smile & kiss are all I ask.  She turns away & says oh men there so madding, away with you ryder of dragons go away.  I say ok, it's your loss, bye bye my Lady have a nice day.  She says what ever you meat head.
    Sir Raymondo 56 @usa1
  • (hello Sir Raymondo 56 nice of you to join us)

    Mick started by the rider sudden arrival and departure he had lost sight of his sister.  Turning around he could not find any sign of Jane.  She seemed to just have disappeared. Behind him his crew seem to regain their wits as the fear from the vanished elves disperses.

    ==================================================================================

    Jane hardly paid attention to the dragon rider.  She twirls her sword scaning the wood line for the last of the fleeing elves.   In her battle furry she rushes after them. Deep into the forest she chases after them.  A few glimpses of a couple here and there tells her where to follow.  Within seconds she finds herself in a clearing.  Jane stops before she runs right into a large stone pillar standing dead center of the clearing.  There she gaze around confusion overtaking her mind    The fire in Jane's blade dies down.  Then something comes flying though the air.  A large thud is all she hears and fails down unconscious.

  • InsaneDuckling (GB1)InsaneDuckling (GB1) Posts: 19,271
    edited 10.10.2015
    It had been yet another few hours before Rye allowed Bolt to rest. At this point, he was heaving in and out a large amount of air at a time, and it was an early warning that he needed to stop for a few minutes. Rye brought him to a slow trot and listened intently to her surroundings as Bolt attempted to slow his breathing. Fortunately, there was none. 

    Rye had been riding for six hours now, occasionally slowing down - as she had just done - to allow Bolt a chance to catch his breath, but never really stopping. This meant that it was in the late afternoon, nearing evening, and she had been riding for about ten hours, give or take a couple of minutes. It had been quite the same routine for a few weeks; riding, eating, sleeping, then waking up and doing the same all over again. So far, she'd only encountered seven attempts at petty thievery, including the failed encounter earlier on in the day (in all honesty, all of the attempts had failed). She changed direction frequently, hoping to throw off any pursuing authorities - often turning north, or west, or east, or just north again - and she reckoned she had made good progress. She had almost been captured only four times.

    After a minute or so, Rye tugged at Bolt's mane, and dismounted him, looking upwards. The sky was still a bright blue, and there were no traces of smoke. Scowling, Rye noted that she would have to spend another night without a roof over her head. 

    Bolt chose that moment to let out a soft warning whinny. Immediately, Rye froze and listened out for any sound of another person. She quietly reached out a hand towards Bolt, ready to mount him if she needed to, and silently thanking herself for not loosening his straps for a few moments of comfort. 

    A tense minute passed without a noise, then two. Finally a soft rustle of leaves rang around the small path, and Rye instinctively hauled herself onto the saddle. A quiet hiss came from somewhere, and before she could see where it came from, a crossbow bolt whipped over her head with only a few inches to spare. 

    "Stop right there!" A voice rang out to the left, giving Rye a target. It was always the one with the most authority who yelled at people to stop, and it usually worked in her favour. 

    She shoved her feet into the stirrups and unsheathed two throwing daggers from the arsenal at her waist, looking to the left for the voice who had commanded her to stop. Soldiers were rushing out from either side of the somewhat narrow path, making it difficult for Rye to identify who was in charge.

    "I said, stop right there!" The voice screeched again. Rye almost smiled at the convenience.

    She whipped her head to the left, spotting the man who had given the order almost immediately. Without thinking twice, she aimed one of her daggers at him, and the other at one of the crossbowmen off to the side. With a wry grin, Rye (*Begins laughing silently*) drew her longsword from between her shoulder-blades, and nudged Bolt with her knees.

    Finally, a bit of action came her way.
    Bazooka Duck of Fire | High Councillor of Inrazimad | That Person with an Addiction to Cookies 

    Um . . . I don't have enough titles. I must brainstorm!

    @au1 ~ graceL.H.E - Level 70 - Storm Cloaks - The Terrible
    @en1 ~ InsaneDuckling - Level 70 - New Vision - The Terrible

    One of those weird old players who became all sentimental after leaving the game before they could see dear old Empire rot away even more. 
  • Dan o Shanter (US1)Dan o Shanter (US1) Posts: 396
    edited 12.10.2015
    As the branch he'd been aiming at crashed down, grazing the riders and sending their horses towards a point where they'd be in range of Jane's sword, Dougal found a spare corner of his mind nibbling at memories of long ago: of sitting at the feet of his father's barrd Eoghan MacLawren in the better days, before Ulthoor had broken the clans and enslaved most of the north.  His voice whispered back now, even as Dougal wondered how things had turned so strange, and if they might not turn any stranger: "Th' world's a wider place than we ken, laddie, an' there's mair tae be seen in it than most folk can see.  Noo ye, laddie, ye micht be a body ay those 'at micht gain th' seein', an' mebbe e'en th' voice an' th' Power tae control some ay whit ye see...", and then he'd gazed straight into Dougal's eyes until he squirmed with the intensity of that gaze, but even at that young age he'd be damned if any man would make him look away; "...aye, maybe; but th' signs ur faint, an' strange, an' far awa' in time an' place.."  Now he answered half-aloud, though Eoghan had been dead many years, "But Ah ne'er wanted tae see th' uncanny, Eoghan, Ah ne'er wanted tae caa onie Power! Aw Ah want is tae see mah bonnie Prince oan his rightful thrain an' mah bonnie Gavina oan mah arm..."  But the Seeing would not be denied, nor the answering Voice within.  Lost in the struggle between, he never even saw the dragons land, nor take off again.  But as the Seeing grew stronger, he began to be able to look closer at the white flaming rune that had taken the place of Jane in his inner vision, Jane who reminded him a little of his own long-absent sister; began to see a wrongness to the fire, a wrongness that might lead her astray to destruction.  He shook himself free from the struggle in time to see her disappear into the forest, though all the rest seemed to be in the grip of some hypnotic power.  When a quick splash of cold water failed to break Mick's trance, he cursed and followed Jane, breaking branches as he went to leave a trail for the others.

    *************************

    Running silently through the woods, still Seeing enough to sense where dead branches that might snap with a noise were, or living branches that might hit him in the face, Dougal approached the clearing with the pillar..  He saw Jane stop and look around, then drop as if she had been struck with a stone.  Peering ahead, he saw a twisted shadow creature deep in the treeline stooping for another stone; at the same time, his sharpened senses caught the words, "I said, STOP RIGHT THERE!", floating faintly on the breeze from...who knew how far?  Hundreds of yards?  Thousands of yards?  Further?  Somehow it didn't matter; somehow he knew what to do.  He pulled out his tabor pipe and focused on the sound he'd heard; sent the command out again in amplified force and form towards the shadowy creature, with all its ability to inspire awe or fear in the unprepared.  The words rang out of the tabor's bell mouth in a focused beam, impossibly loud within it, as faint as he'd first heard them outside.  He grinned as he saw the shadow not only stop, but stagger back from the force of the sound, its hands flying up to clutch its bleeding ears.



    Post edited by Dan o Shanter (US1) on

    Proud non ruby-whiner
  • Rye managed to catch the crossbowman in the neck with her second dagger, but the commander she had originally aimed at had shifted to the left in an attempt to dodge the incoming missile. He hadn't dodged it entirely though; the dagger had managed to dig itself deep into the fleshy part of his shoulder where his light chainmail vest didn't reach. 

    Rye only had a quick moment to suppose it had been a lucky thing, when a loud droning noise erupted from another area in the woods. All of the heads in the clearing snapped towards the direction it had come from, including - she was sad to say - Rye. The droning only grew louder, as the seconds ticked by, and she could distinctly make out the edges of an articulate language.

    She realised her attention had been focused on the loud droning noise for quite some time now, and that this was the perfect time to dispose of as many of the surrounding soldiers as she could. Quickly noting that there were more or less a dozen around her, and three crossbowmen still standing, Rye slid out two throwing daggers and quickly sent them on their way towards the closest two crossbowmen. Even before the first two daggers had reached their target, she had already pulled out another dagger, and hastily threw it at the third. 

    The first two hit their target, and both went down almost immediately, but she feared the third might've been too hastily thrown, and would go off target. Fortunately, the third target flinched to the right as he saw his comrades topple over out of the corner of his eyes, and the dagger embedded itself into his neck. 

    Rye felt like grinning a smug grin. The fortune seemed to be in her favour this day.
    Bazooka Duck of Fire | High Councillor of Inrazimad | That Person with an Addiction to Cookies 

    Um . . . I don't have enough titles. I must brainstorm!

    @au1 ~ graceL.H.E - Level 70 - Storm Cloaks - The Terrible
    @en1 ~ InsaneDuckling - Level 70 - New Vision - The Terrible

    One of those weird old players who became all sentimental after leaving the game before they could see dear old Empire rot away even more. 
  • Mick realized that he was soaking wet as one of his crew member manages to shake him out of his trance.  "Sir you okay?"  Without answer Mick Gets up his mind racing burly memories of first Jane and Dougal run into the forest. Get the crew organize a small scouting group with me and the rest cleaning up camp and patrolling the premature."  A small group gathered to go with Mick.  "Second mate Lither You in charge until I get back."  Mick barked and then ran off into the forest with his small group of men.
  • K K (US1)K K (US1) Posts: 3,731
    Peering over Sher's shoulder, I read,

    ...World the embers burn,
    In the lava fields at every turn,
    And when the fiery mountains stop,
    Layers of fine ash and dust drop.

    In spring the starving farmers sow,
    Their meagre crops and hope they grow,
    The lightest, rarest rain showers fall,
    Barely enough to...

    "Now that is poetic." I comment, idly checking over my twenty-two arrows for broken fletching. I learned from bitter experience what broken or damaged fletching can do to one's accuracy. And having almost died because of it, I always made sure that my arrows are perfect from then onwards.

    Sher whips his head around, startled. "How long were you standing their?" He asks, self consciously hiding his paper and pen from sight. Sher never liked people commenting about his poems, he was afraid of receiving criticism. He saw poetry as a form of art to express one's inner feelings that cannot otherwise be expressed. Judging by the way he writes poems whenever he gets the chance, he obviously has a lot to say about the world.

    "It's okay, Sher." I pat him on the back, "It's okay to be creative." He nods, not entirely convinced that I'm not making fun of him.

    A snap of a twig. I turn to the treeline, nocking an arrow to my bow. "We'd better get going. I think they're catching up to us."
    The Sane Acquaintance of Inrazimad
    The Co-Creator of the Bilbo RPG Community

    K [email protected] Int 1
    Member of the Royal Heavy Launchers; subdivision of the Royal Gunner Circle; subdivision of the Royal Remnant Knights.
    PS: Remnant Knights is owned and copyright to Game Samba and Kalydo. My post on the forums is to be considered fan fiction.

    Hate the fires,
    K K

    Help me raise Creatures, please.

  • <3o:)B)<3 Dragons need lots of care, food, space & love to fly & show off at times. They are loyal for the most part, just be careful not to overlook that they hear very well, see very well, & can at times be very playful.
    Sir Raymondo 56 @usa1
  • K K (US1)K K (US1) Posts: 3,731
    edited 25.10.2015
    There! There! The glistening arrow-tips of what could only be elven archers. I duck, just in time as an arrow flies past me and buries itself into the trucks of a large pine.

    "Move it!" I yell, urging Sher on.

    It's been two days since we entered the forest, unaware that it was the territory of the elves. And boy, do they hate humans, not that Sher and I were human in the first place but they don't know that, nor do they care, really.

    I send an arrow flying into the trunk of a tree one of them were hiding from before I continue to run down the narrow, twisting path.
    The Sane Acquaintance of Inrazimad
    The Co-Creator of the Bilbo RPG Community

    K [email protected] Int 1
    Member of the Royal Heavy Launchers; subdivision of the Royal Gunner Circle; subdivision of the Royal Remnant Knights.
    PS: Remnant Knights is owned and copyright to Game Samba and Kalydo. My post on the forums is to be considered fan fiction.

    Hate the fires,
    K K

    Help me raise Creatures, please.

  • JackelKight (US1)JackelKight (US1) Posts: 533
    edited 08.11.2015
    Mick's muscles strain as he holds his bow at attain, waiting.  The silence blare around him and his men.  *SNAP*  Mick and his crew whirl around to greet the sound. Mocking silence laugh at them.  They playing with us. the thought reaches his mind before he can push it away.  *SNAP* They whirl around again, this time something else meet them.
  • Dan o Shanter (US1)Dan o Shanter (US1) Posts: 396
    edited 19.11.2015
    Dougal was just about to give the shadowy creature, a beast of the Unseelie Court of the Fae if he could trust his faerie lore (that had built layer upon layer from his earliest vague half-rememberings of a smoky hall and a cozy nook by the fire and Eoghan's long singing over of triads and Séadnas while his father's eyes grew gradually deeper until they widened out into pools of black and sleep for a little boy's mind to sink into dream to the song of the gleg-gabbit rogue's tongue weaving order and pattern to those dreams: this was the sign that would distinguish the Cait Sith from the Cu Sith; this other was what to do if you ever met the Brown Man of the Muirs, and this other tattered scrap of nightmare that had woken your Da and Ma with your screams more times than they cared to count was why you never wanted to unless you were absolutely sure you'd never had art nor part, act nor thought in the harming of any of the wild or faerie creatures, all the myriad who lived on the muir and easy to offend as they were even without the poor rabbit you'd gnawed the bones from at dinner tonight, and where else might it be supposed to have lived when it did live besides out on the muir, you knowing nothing yet of hutches and warrens on the southward slope of the dun), a tabor pipe blast sufficient to send it so far over the hills of perdition the gods themselves couldn't find it with a seeing-glass...he only regretted he didn't have the matching tabor drum to play the funeral march too, that having gone overside in a particularly bad stretch of rapids...when his ears picked up an even more urgent set of sounds: the swish-thup of blades slicing through air to embed themselves in...at least two divisions of sound, he decided as he cat-rolled into a throwing crouch beside the huge cedar to the right of the clearing, pipe dropping from his lips to dangle by its wrist loop; one dirk in hand and a second loosened in its sheath.  He knew the peculiar fluttering hiss of a thrown dirk, dagger, what have you far too well to have any mistake there; that was the wetter set of sounds, the ones that ended with meaty thuds to signify a successful triad of hits.  But the woodpeckers? the dull wooden sounds of presumably misses unless the intention was to find a new method of tapping trees for syrup or pitch or camphor or...?  There was no hint of a bowstring's twang but that meant little: he also knew enough theory, thanks to his more recent series of...employments..., to know that there were literally dozens of ways to mask or prevent that little telltale.  It was more the size and the color of those woody thuds that had him picturing arrows drawn to the quivering statue-freeze just before final release, and he didn't intend to stay in the open long enough to need to worry about all that comes after that.  He saw Jane beginning to stir where she lay, and whistled the archer warning in the signal code the crew had worked out...sometimes by the arbitration of fists, other times of the bottle...during the long and icy journey southwards.  He paused long enough to be sure he saw her eyes clear to awareness, then whistled it again, a tad more urgently.





    Post edited by Dan o Shanter (US1) on

    Proud non ruby-whiner
  • The attention had turned back to Rye, and she was sure she saw worry etched onto their expressions when they saw the corpses of their crossbowmen. It was almost amusing how this encounter seemed to be working in her favour; only one of the crossbowmen seemed to have his crossbow loaded, the rest being lazy dolts with unloaded crossbows, which was rather useless to keep on them, if she said so herself.  

    There were only eight men left, and one of them was injured. It was going to be a slight challenge, and Rye had a feeling she wasn't going to leave the battle unscathed, but she knew how well she had trained with a sword, and she knew she was as good a swordsman as any well trained knight, perhaps even better.

    She'd decided that using the rest of her knives wasn't worth it, and she reckoned it was as good idea as any to hold off on the throwing knives unless completely necessary, which meant she would have to fight them off the old-fashioned way.

    All was silent and still for a few moments, until the commander that Rye had injured beforehand decided to interrupt them calming forces of nature. 

    "Get her!" He yelled, gesturing to Rye with his uninjured arm. "What are you all doing just standing around?"

    That was a rather good question, Rye mused to herself. She had zoned out for a second, and it was probably the best chance they had to capture her. Then she scolded herself for being so unprofessional and prone to attack.

    Three of the soldiers ran at her.
    Bazooka Duck of Fire | High Councillor of Inrazimad | That Person with an Addiction to Cookies 

    Um . . . I don't have enough titles. I must brainstorm!

    @au1 ~ graceL.H.E - Level 70 - Storm Cloaks - The Terrible
    @en1 ~ InsaneDuckling - Level 70 - New Vision - The Terrible

    One of those weird old players who became all sentimental after leaving the game before they could see dear old Empire rot away even more. 
  • K K (US1)K K (US1) Posts: 3,731
    Snap!

    The sound that no archer would ever want to hear. Sher looked down at his broken bowstring, stunned by what just happened. He was all but oblivious of the air splitting whistle of arrows coming his way.

    I tackled Sher to the ground, saving him from certain death. the thudding of half a dozen arrows burying into the ground shortly followed. I stand and drag Sher up.

    "My bow!" Sher yelled, turning back to retrieve it.

    "Forget the bow!" I yell as another arrow slams into the tree besides me.

    I lead Sher back onto the twisting path. Narrowly dodging elven arrows.
    The Sane Acquaintance of Inrazimad
    The Co-Creator of the Bilbo RPG Community

    K [email protected] Int 1
    Member of the Royal Heavy Launchers; subdivision of the Royal Gunner Circle; subdivision of the Royal Remnant Knights.
    PS: Remnant Knights is owned and copyright to Game Samba and Kalydo. My post on the forums is to be considered fan fiction.

    Hate the fires,
    K K

    Help me raise Creatures, please.

  • Light seem to come back into the world for Jane.  To her the world went away not her.  It came back slowly.  First the feel of the grass and the earth underneath it.  The taste of blood came soon after, followed by the smell of grass.  Now the light started to divide and take shapes.  A sound she could not identity reached her ears. She focused her mind and her surroundings began to come in clearly.  The sound came in again she recognize it as the crew code: archer amount unknown.  Then the shadow loomed over her.

    ======================================================================================

    Mick heard the thud of arrows and whirl around towards it.  For a moment he thought of having his men carpeting the area twenty yards on either side of the sound.  Then changed his mind they might hit Jane not knowing where his sister is.  Then he hears shouting and the thuds of more arrows.  Then he heard whistling of the crew code not once but twice.  Mick thinks I told the rest of the crew to stay at camp.  That's when he hears the roar of flames.

  • Rye held her sword up to fend off the three other swordsmen. Judging from the way they ran with their hands clasped too tightly around the hilt of their own swords, they were amateurs. The other five soldiers hung back, staring at their charging comrades with wide, uncertain eyes. They were probably the wiser members of the patrol.

    They were almost near her when the soft twang of a bowstring being released could be heard from the area Rye was facing. Instinctively, Rye nudged Bolt with her knees, causing him to jerk to the left about a metre or so. The arrow that had been released came nowhere near her though; one of the soldiers who hadn't charged at her collapsed to the ground, gasping. An arrow had embedded itself into his back.

    One look at the shaft that protruded from the soldier's back caused Rye to tense up in her seat. The three other soldiers had stopped their charge as soon as their comrade had fallen to the ground. Their faces were drained of colour, and their eyes were wide. Now they were wary.

    And they had reason to be, Rye thought to herself grimly. It was obvious though, that they had no idea of how much danger they were in. Rye herself was a force to be reckoned with, but elves were even worse. And those shafts had been made by elven hands

    Silently, she swore under her breath. She knew there would be elves in these woods roughly around this time of the year, but her plan had consisted of cutting through a thinner part of the woods and riding as fast as she could towards the south. The small force of soldiers that tried to corner her had ruined that, and put all of them in danger whilst trying to do so.

    In a split-second moment of hesitation, Rye nudged Bolt a little bit harder with her foot, and allowed Bolt to start into a canter again. The soldiers around her moved as soon as she did, trying to stop her from escaping. She cut down one soldier who got too close, and came close to decapitating another, but it was enough to break free from the circle of soldiers.

    This time, Bolt broke into a fast gallop.
    Bazooka Duck of Fire | High Councillor of Inrazimad | That Person with an Addiction to Cookies 

    Um . . . I don't have enough titles. I must brainstorm!

    @au1 ~ graceL.H.E - Level 70 - Storm Cloaks - The Terrible
    @en1 ~ InsaneDuckling - Level 70 - New Vision - The Terrible

    One of those weird old players who became all sentimental after leaving the game before they could see dear old Empire rot away even more. 
  • Dan o Shanter (US1)Dan o Shanter (US1) Posts: 396
    edited 22.11.2015
    With a predatory grin befitting the spirit animal who presided over the hour of his birth, the mysterious caelican cat, Dougal watched a faerie more unwary than the rest break cover and head over towards Jane. outlining it perfectly as a deeper darkness against the diffused mist-dusk endemic to riverside forests in these latitudes.  He lined up his first dirk, threw, then launched the second about a foot to the shadow's left: sure enough, its inhuman reflexes allowed it to dodge the first cast: not quite as agile as Dougal had guessed, so the second blade slashed across its hamstring rather than going under the ribcage at an angle guaranteed to pierce either heart or lungs, but at least he'd been right about its being lefthanded.  Paused a moment, wondering.  The faerie harpers of the old sagas, and their mortal bardic pupils (sometimes by half-blood parentage, some by their heroic deeds...these WERE the sagas, after all...were said to all know three famous tunes of enchanting effect, the laughing tune that held all who heard it chained in magically compelled laughter; the weeping tune that did the same with grief; and the sleep tune that poppied all eyes with lotus dust and sent them all to sleep.  But he supposed the faeries ought to know all about their own tunes to counter any of the usual applications.  His Power, if Power he had here, must come from the tunes where mortal outfaced faerie and came off victorious: the High King Eochaid Aireme in Tochmarc Étaine; Amergin Glúingel taming the waves by his druidry; or...he grinned.  Tam Lin had been a favorite of his since his dream-shrouded boyhood; and being a chanted piece it didn't admit of using his tabor pipe, so his hands were free to seek out the handles of his third dirk and sgian dubh as he began to sing:

    "In th' middle ay th' nicht she heard th' bridle ring;
     she heeded whit he did say an' yoong Tam Lin did win.
    Then up spoke th' faerie queen, an crabbit queen wis she,
     'Woe betide 'er ill-fard coopon, an nae weel death main she dee:
     Oh, hud Ah knoon, Tam Lin,' she said, 'what thes nicht Ah did see,
    I'd hae keeked him in th' een 'n' turned him tae a tree!'"
    He chuckled, counting on this unusual prelude of the six last lines of the whole to shake the Unseelie buggers up a bit, remind them that they got mortally schooled by the love and courage of Janet of Carterhaugh.  Probably a weeping tune for them, this one; that ought to give away their positions quite nicely...at least, the ones within whatever range of effect this strange new power had...no idea there, maybe every Ghillie Dhu and Heather Pixie in earshot,or anything else from that on down to just Mr/Ms.-shrieking-on-the-ground-from-the-touch-of-cold-iron over there and any other faeries in the immediate clearing and treeline.  He gave a single trill on the pipe anyway, for luck, and started in:
    Janit tied 'er kirtle green a bit abune 'er knee,
     ain she's gain tae Carterhaugh as fest as gang can she.
     She'd nae pulled a dooble rose, a rose but only tois
     when up thaur cam yoong Tam Lin, says, 'Lady, pull nae more.
     Ain wa come ye tae Carterhaugh withoot commain frae me?'
    'I'll come an' gang,' yoong Janit said, 'ain ask nae lae ay thee.'"





    Proud non ruby-whiner
  • K K (US1)K K (US1) Posts: 3,731
    I turn the corner and stumble to a stop, before me stood half a dozen armed guards. Humans. About another half a dozen lay on the ground, dead. In the distance, the sound of galloping hooves receded.

    I glance back to see the elves closing. With no other chose, I lead Sher to charge the guards.

    Cutting two down with my shortsword I tug on Sher's sleeve and we run after the beating hooves. With the remaining few soldiers and elves giving chase.
    The Sane Acquaintance of Inrazimad
    The Co-Creator of the Bilbo RPG Community

    K [email protected] Int 1
    Member of the Royal Heavy Launchers; subdivision of the Royal Gunner Circle; subdivision of the Royal Remnant Knights.
    PS: Remnant Knights is owned and copyright to Game Samba and Kalydo. My post on the forums is to be considered fan fiction.

    Hate the fires,
    K K

    Help me raise Creatures, please.

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