Background Image

Argot's Warriors of the World [Warhammer Fantasy RP]

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by DeranVendar, Nov 1, 2017.

  1. The scent was the first thing Rolayn would notice, the foul stench all to familiar to the man who'd spent his life in battle against the walking dead. Indeed, even with the salt breeze of the sea washing over him, the waterlogged forms of the dead, even now crawling up from the tide and wreckage, would be the prime source of focus for those mortals that had come to their domain. Gritting his teeth, the man would reach out a hand to stroke the mane of his noble steed, DeLoria's tempers already rising at the sight of their shared enemy. Bred for war, and raised in the dark shadow of Mousillon, he knew his horse would be just as eager as he to stomp down these wretched corpses. Now, the time to join battle had come, and as he watched the dwarf lumber forth, he'd speak towards his companion, his faithful retainer staring towards the undead with the same fear he'd known for most of his life.


    The knight's voice would shake the grip upon him, as the big burly man would turn towards his liege, giving a curt nod, awaiting orders. Rolayn would reach down to his saddle bags, to remove his plumed helm, placing it upon his head, before swiftly rechecking the straps upon his armour. Prepared, he'd turn his armoured gaze down upon his servant.


    Rolayn would extend his open hand, as Lorin would reach out, and pass over the long polearm he'd been carrying for the Bretonnia noble. Gripping the shaft of the weapon tightly, he'd lower the weapon down, as he gave a cry, pulled at the reins, and would charge forward into the fray. Breaking out into a gallop, DeLoria would rush towards the undead horde, Rolayn's corseque leveled at their rotted frames. Letting loose a curse at the foe, Rolayn would thrust out with weapon, ready to tear the horde apart, creature by creature.
    OOC: Balanced Attack On Undead Horde, Defence on Self.

  2. Valonox Valonox Preacher

    Dawne smiled as she started to pull back to the main group she pulled one of her pistols from her holster along with her rapier. Aiming her pistol to the closest undead pulling the hammer back and firing at the unliving chaos worshiper then started to fall back to the main group. "I knew the air smelled a little off."

    OOC: Attack once, Defence once
  3. DeranVendar DeranVendar Subordinate

    Dawne's pistol barks louder than any of the unliving hounds. Shot flies true and strikes a shambling Norscan in and through chest, leaving a new hole for wheeze to wind through where heart had once been. Sloppy steps do not pause, damaged abomination continuing on its quest for flesh. Gap closes between both sides, Rolayn crashing into the mob of uneven, unthinking ranks with pronged polearm running a rotter down into the sands. Pale hands grasp at man and beast alike, trying to unseat the Knight or drag down his steed into a frenzy of rusted iron and decay. A marauder with a one proud beard reduced to sickly strands of faint green swings a great axe into Rolayn's path, warrior reining DeLoria out of a direct path and leaving weapon to arc into his leg instead. Armor peels apart and hot blood spills from fresh wound, Norscan groans and continues his swing after the man passes, hacking the leg from a shuffling tribesman.

    So far, so not-terribly-good. Dagrim comes swinging into the fray, bellowing and chopping straight at those bodies left crowding the gap made by Rolayn's charge. Heavy axe whirls overhead, bisecting a pair of risen marauders whom were just turning around to address the half-naked Dawi. Blade hacks down and splits the head of an already parted foe, finishing off the northerner for good. Lars barges in on Dagrim's left side, the seeming favorite of their group clobbering another Norscan overhead and brandishing shield to fend off a mechanical chop of a hatchet already spattered with diseased blood. Another rotter stumbles forward, body leaning into a toppling charge that carries it straight into the slayer. With one hand the accursed corpse rakes at his face while discolored teeth attempt to set into cheek. An iron blade in opposite hand goes ignored, slapping against the sands uselessly as mindless manling focuses on baser and more primal strikes.

    Grahk scoffs at the whole affair. Black Orc wades into the mob of albino 'umie gitz and socks one straight in the face. A satisfying crack sounds from the partial cave in of a skull, Orc satisfied with first seeming kill. Norscan topples straight into him, sliding down until both arms wrap around a leg. Grahk pauses a moment, using a choppa to smack away another git while watching as half-krumped marauder attempts to bite through his dead 'ard plate. Right annoyin' that is.

    Selaris, standing a safe distance away from their front line, Dawne, and the Druchii is nearly overwhelmed by the stench of rotting horde mingling with the salty sea winds. Matters are not helped by the overwhelming touch of Nurgle brand decay on both the ship and its apparent cargo. Perhaps it is these things that interrupt her casting, proper movements that go into forming a spell disrupted by saturation of other, darker winds. By the time mage realizes her spell has fizzled a hound is nearly upon her. Beast breaks toward her, kicking up sand with skeletal claws and leaving grains to clog open wounds and gaps in its shaggy hide. Pouncing it smashes into her chest, knocking elf down and bounding off. Landing with more grace than the surprised mage hound lunges back in, attempting to snap jaws closed on her exposed neck. Sharing a similiar taste for elf remaining two hounds close in on Selarthi.

    Selarthi's thoughts on the unwieldy and crude nature of her current blade could not have been overstated. Weapon meant for stronger hands carries a missed stroke too far right, trapping her with wasted momentum and left exposed. Bone dry jaws clap down on extended limb, beast wrenching its head from side to side and bracing its legs. Selarthi doubles over, pulled towards the creature trying to tear her arm off. Second hound bounds in and bites into side, leathers stained dark red as another set of jaws threatens to rip away part of her hip.

    Selarthi: 6 (10 Bolts) Dagrim:13 Lars: 12 Rolayn:9 Selaris:8 Dawne: 12 (9 bullets) Grahk:14 (3 axes)

    Sodden Dead:
    Unliving Norscan Horde: 31 Rotting Hounds: 7/7/7
  4. @DeranVendar @Casavay

    Bretonnian feels alive, as he rushes towards the horde, the oncoming first crash of the charge sounding out with a resounding boom. He was as a battering ram, parting the sea of corpses with his loyal steed, as polearm bit into undead flesh, the knight taking pleasure in bringing them down. Yet, the sheer numbers of the mob would soon make itself known, as in his charge, he found himself now surrounded, the cursed servants of the Plague God bearing down with incessant moaning, and rusted, notched weapons. DeLoria, letting loose a rush of angry air, would rear back with swinging hooves, as Rolayn turned his steed away from an incoming attack. Heat would flair, as he felt the bite of steel cutting into him, the man gritting his teeth and hissing back as cry of pain, before swatting the axe away, it's edge pulling back with a spray of blood that covered the sand at his feet.

    Surveying the battlefield quickly, Rolayn would see he'd isolated himself, as only now would the dwarf, ork and other man reach the undead. Scoffing at the lack of speed in their charge, the knight would decide that it would do better for him to withdraw, perhaps pull some of the undead away from the three, and return for another charge. Giving a cry, he'd urge DeLoria onwards, the large beast thrusting through the ranks of the dead, looking to break free from the mob. Rushing along the sands of the beach, he'd turn his head, hearing the howling cries of the putrid hounds as they closed with their prey. Seeing their rear line under assault, Rolayn would spit a curse at Elven foolishness, before whipping his reins, and pushing into a charge to relieve the pressure applied by the hounds.

    Coming in at a full gallop, DeLoria come crashing towards the twin hounds harassing the more currently threatened of the knife ears. Corseque would be aimed towards the hound biting at Dark Elf's torso, as Rolayn made an attempt to gain the attention and ward off the rotted beasts.
    OOC: One Attack on Rotting Hound, One Defence on Selarthi
  5. Lord Decimus Aedric Arkhona Vanguard

    Knee deep in the carnage, Grahks form is a stark counter to the dead currently mobbing about. While they were a limping, shuffling tide of pale undeath, Grahk was their antithesis. He was a dark green engine of pure, savage destruction.


    Regardless of whether Grahk knew the creatures could understand fear let alone what he had said, the Orc threw himself at the nearest corpse. The shambling Norscan stood almost as tall as Grahk did whenever he was hunched forward. The decayed thing was missing its lower jaw and most of it's muscle mass. To underestimate such a creature in melee would spell the doom for perhaps for something such as an Orc. Grahk swings his colossal axe in a horizontal arc, sending innards and rotten ichor about. Instead of using the momentum to purchase a secondary strike, the Orc brings his weapon back before him, it's gnarled metal haft held now held with the intent to defend against retaliation.

    Unlike other Orcs, Grahk knew enough to not over extend himself. Fighting had to be done right and that didn't include being torn to bits right at the start.

    OOC: One attack on a Norscan, One Defense on myself.
  6. Valonox Valonox Preacher

    Dawne laughed at her shot. "Damn good shot but not close enough to the head." Quickly she slid her first pistol into it's holster and pulled the other pistol out. Looking at the closest undead that was the farthest from the pack and swiftly moved to it a lung with her rapier at the zombies skull.
    OOC: 1 Attack 1 Defense
  7. Lars entered the fray with a laugh, many wouldn't like fighting the undead, the foe too stark a reminder of what might await in failure, though Lars found it some of the more amusing fights, though the undead had mindless strength and unending endurance, their utter lack of skill and accursed nature simply felt good to slay, even if one was to beware of their numbers.
    "Come on Dwarf, i thought you red haired ones where to be the greatest fighters of the old world." Lars said, goading the dwarf with a Mirthful tone, As he pushed on into the undead horde deciding to try and rake in some kills himself, slamming his shield towards the head of the closest undead countryman, reading to swing his mace into smash their rotting skulls.

    OOC: All out attack on the Unliving horde
    Casavay, Maleth, DeranVendar and 2 others like this.
  8. Colapse Colapse Forum Beta Tester

    Following Rolayn's charge, Dagrim drove into the undead and bodies flew around, cleaved by his great axe. First two died almost instantly, too slow to get out of the way of the bladed edge as it cut through them easily, the rotten flesh providing almost no protection against dawi steel. Another dead Norseman suffered similar fate as Dagrim's return strike burst his skull and better part of his neck in two, maggots and all kinds of algae dropping out from the mortal wound.

    However the kill was followed with an angry snarl as Dagrim saw the Bretonnian knight bringing his steed around and moving away from the main knot of enemies - towards the stricken Druchi. Apparently whatever Manling code of honor that the khazhunki followed forced him to go to aid of such creature, but then again fostering Elgi within your own country's borders most likely brought the creation of such nonsense in the first place.

    Distracted by the useless task of trying to understand the ways of the younger race, the Slayer failed to get out of the way of the clawed hand that cut through his cheek and scraped skin all down to the bone. Spitting blood and revealing some of his teeth through the new gap on his face, Dagrim sent a vicious headbutt straight into the unlucky corpse's own face, trying to cave the skull in and return the favor. With his free hand he brought the axe around, ready to pulverize the things knees if it survives the first attack and stomp it into the ground.

    Then he heard a voice next to him and initially he thought it was the Greenskin who was taunting him, however the orc was apparently held up by his own battle to spare time and goad a Slayer into action. No, it was the other manling, the walking altar of two dozen different gods, that ushered the words. "I felled three of your countrymen already while you killed only one. Perhaps you still care for them and the rest of Chaos-loving Norscan mongrels and don't want to slay them? Or you lack the necessary skill?"

    After dealing with his immediate assailant, depending on how much that particular undead resisted getting smashed, Dagrim would either send another blow at him or drive into the rest of his compatriots, swinging his axe wildly and trying to keep the gap the knight created earlier opened so they don't get overrun.

    OOC All out attack on the Unliving Norscan Horde.
  9. Saraph Midas Casavay Well-Known Member

    Selarthi, for her part, was content to scream elven curses and struggle for her life, pinned as she was, striking out with her free arm at the hounds. I would be an inconvenience to lose three limbs at such a stage of her recruitment, and very likely put her at a disadvantage compared to the other potential mercenaries. In a moment of clarity, she reached down to her belt and slipped out her small knife - normally unfit for battle - and used it to jab at the creatures assailing her, not aware of the Knight mercifully coming to her aid.

    OOC: Two attacks on the dogs.
  10. Maleth Maleth Subordinate

    Spell casting interrupted by foul blight blotting out her magic, which was issue that was further compounded with the hound knocking her down onto the ground, which elicited a grunt of pain from Selaris due to the hard impact of back onto soil. Still, she needed to avoid dying so the High Elf got back onto her feat and took a more physical approach to combat by thrusting the bladed end of her staff towards the rotten hound to try warding it off or slay it.

    OCC: Attack on Rotting Hound, Defense on Self

Share This Page