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They Cometh From Iron

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by DeranVendar, Mar 11, 2017.

  1. DeranVendar DeranVendar Subordinate

    Everybody's A Critic
    “No. NO! THIS SONG SHALL NOT END! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!” The hissing shriek of the Cacophonist, bloodied and broken, would sound out as a high pitch squeal, the architect of this heretical assembly forced to see how his efforts would prove to be lacking. Scouts spread about the chamber, supported by their sergeant and captain, fighting hard against all he had managed to throw against him. Daemon of The Dark Prince, mighty, seducing, and tainted, still fought, yet even it’s hideously alluring form was filled with the pocket craters of bolter fire. The Orchestra burned, fire spreading through it’s mortals, their playing going until the bitter end, where muscles melted, and bones broken. Tiro, stumbling about, half delirious in his righteous torrents of fire, would feel a stab from being, before a rush of stimulating drugs would course through him, kicking his regenerative abilities into overdrive. Garrick, with a tear, would feel himself drop down to the ground, freed from his puncturing prison, his brother’s efforts proving not in vain. Even now, the air was filled with the pulsating beat, erratic, unharmonious, the Orchestra playing notes out of tempo, struggling to keep up their composure to the symphony. Ash fell down from above, the pyres of the dead building the heat in the chamber, as those who walked the path of excess found they were at it’s end. Cacophonist howls raising his remaining arm, back mounted speakers bursting with the howls of a dozen different voices.

    “I. SHALL. NOT. ALLO-” The shots came cracking through the air, cutting through the sound of the ever present song, as easily as they cut through the armour plating of The Cacophonist. Vocal cords were split, flesh burst, as the throat of the traitor popped like a overblown pustule. Heretic fell to his knees, trying to scream, trying to mend his flesh, trying desperately to fight through the haze of all encompassing pleasing sensation that even now flooded his nervous system. In the end, his futile attempts wouldn’t matter, black eyes looking down upon the grenade that fell before them, a small whine being heard before fire engulfed him. The explosion would rock the dais where their foe had conducted, going up in flames and smoke, as brother Kourosh would be rewarded with this momentous kill for all his training. It would surely be only the first in a long and proud career.

    As it’s master is consumed, the Fiend of Slaanesh makes a berserk charge, denying all attempts at self preservation to ride out against the loyalist. Scouts are quick to take advantage of it’s oblivious ride, Aridan and Akar opening up with their weapons, to peel it’s flesh, yet it was not enough. With a flash of it’s flesh, the needle point of it’s tail would come striking through the gorget of Akar, captain feeling his throat fill with blood, no doubt only further infuriating the marine. Raising up the marine, it’s claws opening, the creature looks to finish it’s prey, before it’s head explodes in a spray of gore. Dropping to the floor, it’s body bleeding away into unreality, a small notification comes to Akar over the vox network from their marksman.

    Target neutralized.​

    Any chance at celebration or relief is robbed of the marines however, as the Orchestra reacts to the deaths of conductor and unholy avatar poorly. The mortals, wracked in their drug induced delirium, without direction, begin playing, without want, without care. There is no point, to drive to the noise now, only just ceaseless, excessive play, shots and booming waves of sound shooting out in all directions. The self destructive concert blasts out to all the assembled warriors of The Emperor, knocking many back. Tiro goes crashing to the ground, body and ceremite split with a booming sonic scream, blood pooling where he lay. Barron, in the thick of the Orchestra, takes another great attack, chainsword’s roar for one instance, drowned out entirely as scout is battered by the drum beats of bloody hearts. Sergeant Kenemon goes down, his fall unceremonious, uncaring for his status, as around him, Aridon, Kourosh, and Garrick feel the same pain their sergeant is subject to. Only three manage to weather the noise storm without damage, Akar and Charon, due to superior defense of both physical and psychic nature, and Arruath, so far back with his weapon, to be out of lethal range.

    The crazed sounds only continue to grow, it’s strength rising in tandem with the damage inflicted from uncaring hosts to the noise. Within seconds, this entire chamber would tremble with the force of the percussive cacophony. The loyalists would need to strike swiftly if they wished to finish this without further casualties.


    Squad Kenemon:
    Kenemon: 7 Tiro: 1 Garrick: 5 Kourosh: 7 Charon: 7 Aridan: 7 Arrauth: 8 Barron: 3 Akar: 7
    Conditions: Barron: Health Kit (5 Charges). Garrick, Barron, Arrauth, and Charon all suffer -2 to all actions for the remainder of the fight as their minds struggle to deal with the daemon's existence.

    Emperor’s Children:
    The Orchestra: 59
    Conditions:
  2. “Belay that order, Teno, remain to your duty. Light The Dawn.”


    Diokletious’ voice would sound through the vox, the order and authority of his voice having not yet fully abandoned him. Looking up from where he sat, the Chapter Master would raise a taloned hand, still fizzling with energy, as he waved towards the Knights of Dawn, clad in their Tartaros Terminator armour, standing by the First Captain.


    “Go, leave us. Ensure none enter whilst we converse.”


    Though tasked with the defense of Maximilian, the Knights of Dawn would obeyed the orders of Diokletious, giving a curt nod, before turning, and rumbling off back down the twisting tunnels leading outside. Once they had left, Diokletious would speak towards Max, affixing his gaze upon the man, his blue glowing eyes flashing as if with power failure. Speaking, his normally soft tones would be made rasp, the workings of his helm’s vox seemingly having failed completely, leaving him with his burned voice.


    “Come, yes, the chapters future. Brother, I’ve…”


    He’d stop speaking for a time, head seemingly struggling to stay aloft, before continuing.


    “I’ve done what I can to give us a chance, to give us a future. But, it seems.. It seems I’ve done all I will ever do….It now rests...rests….to you...to the future...the youths…”


    The chapter master would shake his head, movements, normally smooth and flowing, erratic and slurred, before he tried to stand.


    “We need...I need...I need you Max...to…”


    He’d fall to his knees, unable to keep himself up on weak legs.


    “I need your help Herchel….”
  3. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    Charon - A song for the Dawn
    Charon grinned as He got Garrick down finally changing the luck for him and his brother hearing the sorcerers final actions gave him some satisfaction to see the Abomination destroyed. It would be short lived as he stood up the noise in the this deranged opera house crowing screams surrounding them trying to overtake his senses, blocking it out of his mind as he began using what energy he had to push out the noise he could silencing his mind until only him and the voices remained only watch with grim rage as his brothers began falling and even there sergeant ,Only a few of them left standing Captain Akar and Arraugh do to his range away from all this,

    "Look at them all fall little one against the sweet pains of excess even after death the conductor, The instruments unguided still sing a sweet song to its listeners!"

    One voice scrapped at Charon's mind attempting to mock him further and break his concentration

    "If only it could be Silenced, Replaced, Or changed."
    Another voice whispered

    Charon's brothers vitals lowering dangerously he knew he need to act to try and aid his brothers, Seeing Tiro and Barron losing a lot of blood the librarian began quickly thinking What do I do? what do I DO?!" Charon began thinking super human augmentations, and organ taking there affect as the scouts thoughts began racing suddenly two thoughts and memories suddenly popped into his head, The Sound and image of Ozzymundus singing his song to his brothers as they all road down here, and the sight of brother Manson's flames and body shooting out a idea came to mind. If Charon could atleast try to create another vacum of noise maybe he could ateleast try to protect his brothers with Dawn burst along with a song to battle the tainted orchestra

    Charon stepped forward pushing till he was by his brothers, and then began to speak. Knowing his voice would be almost lost in the waves of noise, he would attempt to raise his voice so at least his brothers could hear him. Charon's mind clear as he focused on the song, and the light of the astronomicon the light of Terra and the emperor himself, Thoughts of Ozzy when he played and the song he sang himself and the very light of the astronomic on filling Charon himself till it would burst out of him. Charon would do this until he could feel it ready to burst out of him.

    Keeping his brothers at a safe distance he would attempt to walk futher as if making himself target and to defend them if something went wrong. Putting his hands to his chest he readied as he felt the energy and as he did he would form his hands into a fist and as he released the energy Straighten his pinky and pointer finger into the air as if channeling it through his hand.


    OOC Dawn burst Defensive action on Tiro

    -Herchel - Maximillian - A Sunset
    Maximillian took off his helmet going down to try to help Dyzek, Diokletious as he began to falter as he fell his own heart seem to tug, His words selected carefully as he tried to hold back his sorrow, "What do you need me to do Dyzek?" Herchel would try to keep his brother focused and keep him from falling more his voice tinged with Sorrow as he saw his brother weakening. Herchel used his brothers old name as he had used his as he now confirmed these were possibly his last moments since he was using his old one as well.
  4. Akerath Vlayden Well-Known Member

    At this point, Garrick could only help but feel a bit content now with the death of the.... Fiends - he fumbled for his Meltagun and brought it up to his forehead, murmuring short, apologetic prayers to the weapon in question, before giving the incantation of cooling to its barrel in hopes of it firing true.
    Dear Melta; aim true and let your payload obliterate what it hits, for our foes require all the strength at our disposal to be dealt with. May your machine-spirit act faithfully, for I shall repay it so upon return to base tenfold.

    A few seconds afterwards he lifted the weapon and without further ado, fired - uncaring for the sudden hiss, and then deafening roar that accompanied the weapon's firing as the very air itself steamed and evaporated, superheated promethium being jetted outwards towards the.. Orchestra.

    His mind hurt - his bones ached and his muscles screamed for release. His eyes felt as though they were being squeezed and his brain felt like someone was trying to crush it between their fists. But he couldn't let this stop him, he knew, and let off another pull of the trigger, content with the searing sensation that came over his face from the radiating heat from the melta weapon in front of him.​


    OOC: all out meltattack on the Orchestra
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  5. Maximillian took off his helmet going down to try to help Dyzek, Diokletious as he began to falter as he fell his own heart seem to tug, His words selected carefully as he tried to hold back his sorrow, "What do you need me to do Dyzek?" Herchel would try to keep his brother focused and keep him from falling more his voice tinged with Sorrow as he saw his brother weakening. Herchel used his brothers old name as he had used his as he now confirmed these were possibly his last moments since he was using his old one as well.


    “I need….I need….”


    His breathing was ragged now, laboured, and stressed. Blood had ceased to flow, yet, it was a wonder if that was for better or worse, as the marine would reach up with a hand, steadying himself upon Maximilian’s shoulder. The man would look up into the eyes of the first captain, the mask of the Dawnbringers gazing towards his friend, his brother, a strange sense of urging in their glare.


    “I need….you...Herchel…”


    The pain came all of a sudden for Maximilian, stabbing, cold, yet electrified, as the powered blades slid into his flesh. His plate, cataphracti pattern terminator armour, was hard and strong, able to weather blows from cannons and other mighty strikes, yet it had it’s weak points. The claws of Diokletious’ right hand had found one, lacerating the flesh of Maximilian’s unarmoured arm pit, energized points easily cutting through the mesh undersuit beneath. The talons rested there for a moment, before twisting, marginally, with the words whispered from Diokletious in the coming seconds, the voice of the Chapter Master soft, and almost purring.


    “I need you to die.”


    _____


    He had known something was wrong, ever since the battle against the swordsmen, Diokletious had known something was amiss. He had assumed it was some foul concoction, some toxin used by the enemy, and that had been his mistake. He had fallen, hard, and into darkness, and in truth, as he lay in the mud, Diokletious had perished, beneath the hellish lights of corruption above him. For, even as the remnants of his mind dwelt in the depths of the malicious ocean that now flooded his being, it was not Diokletious that had risen up from the mud. It was not he who had taken the icon of Akar, and strode back to Dawnbringer lines. It was not Dyzek that had summoned their first captain, luring him to his doom. Something else had him in it’s grip, and to his eternal shame, he was unable to break it’s hold.


    The pounding in his head was beyond everything, beating in time with his dual hearts, pumping blood through his body, out of his wounds, each breath bringing him closer to the yawning abyss. He was a prisoner in his own body, at once viewing, yet unable to guide the movements of his flesh. The other had him now, and he raged, and railed against it screaming futilely.


    “NO! NOOOOOO!”


    Yet it was pointless, for all the rage and struggling in the universe could not save him now. The other knew this, it’s rising being taking great pleasure in his damnation as it came closer to waking fully. It lashed out, power overwhelming, as Diokletious felt it’s lashing across his being, his very soul torn asunder. He was ripped apart, put back together, and destroyed over and over, as The Other seemingly toyed with him, as if he were just a plaything. It was an eternity, timeless torment that took the man to the edge of his endurance. It tore from him memories, great victories, bonds of friendship, trials won and wisdom gained. It took everything from him, piece by piece, corrupting it all for it’s own gain. It took great amusement from his past, from where this chapter had come from. As it took greater form, and grew in influence, Dyzek was helpless to watch, sensing even now what it intended, only subject to watch with horror, as it returned to it’s plot.


    “YOU CANNOT WIN! MY BROTHERS WILL DESTROY YOUR ROT!”


    “That’s exactly what I’m counting on, little fool.”


    The laughter was all encompassing, echoing against the shards of Diokletious’ as the thing that was not he moved his flesh. He watched, he watched it use the bonds of brotherhood to bring his brother towards him. He wept to see it comrade struck, and in the instant when the game had begun, Dyzek cried out, for in an instant, he’d know his fate, and what awaited Herchel.


    Death would be a mercy after this.


    “One that you will never know.”


    _____


    Herchel would stare down into the mask of The Chapter Master, as time seemed to stretch, freezing him in place, like a pict taken of a scene, held forever. Yet, things began to move, a rippling across the figure of Diokletious, an echoing shrieking laugh building in the chest of the man he’d once called brother. The world around him took on a purple hue, as the first captain would feel the weight of destiny upon them all. Across the planet, for a moment, a flash of energy would be felt, eclipsing that of the dark ritual, and the counter spell both. Within his palatine palace, the Father of Traitorous Children would smile, in the way only one filled with a perverse pride could. Diokletious began heaving, laughing, as the flux of chaotic energies found it’s focal point, and began working their evil.


    The transformation was not a new one, yet, it had never occurred so quickly, so blatantly, and were it not due to the attention already gathered here by those who served The Neverborn, it would no be possible. Across Diokletious’ body, his ceremite would begin to steam, hissing heat burning across it’s surface, as a bubbling came upon the metal. It began to shift, and twist, curl and turn, grinding metal and breaking bones sounding off, yet the bloodcurdling laughter never ceasing, only growing louder. Proportions shifted, arms changing length, colouration of the armour going with it, as grey and red boiled away as if bathed in acidic rain, to reveal a pink and black resembling the abyss. The claws in Herchel’s arm, charged with Warp energy, would turn and split and melt and mold, the agony in his arm increasing tenfold. The talons would change, moving about as if being reforged infront of him, still buried deep in his body, cutting metal with it’s transformation. It’s length grew, it’s cutting edge shifting, as within an instant. A long, curved blade now embedded itself in the bloody ruin of Maximilian’s arm, twisting and still writhing as if alive, and gorging upon his ichor. Other claw changed as well, talons turning liquid, and changing into along, barbed appendage, coiling and twisting through the air, wildly as if without pattern. Yet, it would lash out, tendrils ripping free the helm of the first captain, cutting gashes into his visage, and ruining his vox communicator, fully isolating him from his brothers.


    Last of all to change, would be the visage of his friend. For a hundred years now, since the chapter’s inception, Diokletious had been known by the silver mask upon his head, his own face long forgotten, and replaced by it’s splendor. Maximilian would now gaze into this visage, as it began to burn and boil, blue eyes flashing, a clear translation of pain, and fear bursting out, before the sheer heat burning off from it turn it molten. Dripping away, falling to the floor, the armour would be gone, sliding free to reveal a face, not one Herchel would remember. Scarred flesh, mutilation that rendered the owner beyond human, teeth filed into points, a long black tongue flicking out to caress the air around it. Eyes, bottomless pits of void, like those upon a deep sea predator, would stare out into Maximilian’s own.


    “DIE! DIE! DIE!”


    A cackling would sound out, as the moment, elongated and charged with power, would begin to fade. A swift boot would crash against the plate of Herchel, sending him sprawling away from this thing, which stood up now to it’s full height.


    It was once a legionnaire, that much could be certain, a son of Fulgrim, yet time and treachery had changed it for worse. It stood up, arms spread, eyes gazing about, as if marvelling in it’s own hellish rebirth into the world. It’s plate, a mixture of purple hues, pink shades, and pure black, would be slick with moisture, it’s body showing signs of what had once been. The creature would cackle again, eyes settling back upon Herchel, before pointing with it’s long, silver blade.


    “DIE! Yes, come unto me, Wayward Worm. Fitting you’ll meet your end here, deep in the muck and the dirt and the mud.”



    A flourish of blade, a crack of whip, and the warrior would spin upon it’s feet, footwork showing a clear playful style of a duelist.


    “I, Lucius The Everglorious, Lucius The Faultless Blade, Lucius The Eternal, will give your putrid, filthy, life, an ending more worthy then any of your ilk deserve.”

  6. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    A blood red sunrise
    Time seem to slow as Herchel felt the stab of pain in his arm, he only had to turn slightly to see dyzeks lighting claw entered his armpit, Herchel's mind would wonder what the hell just happen for several seconds looking back to Diokeltious to see him and his flesh changing warping and finally changing into that into a abomination, he felt pain in his arm as a twist came and something break as his arm turned into a sword and the face of his friend turn into that of a abomination of chaos, the creature reforming in front of him melting what his brother war, was armed with and all of his body until he was a unholy abomination that was a dick.

    Getting kick back Herchel slid his flesh arm for once not responding, tendons gut and arteries, It was likely gone, Grabbing loosing his helmet as well the Marine felt bitterness, Sorrow, rage, hatred and concern all at once, as well as small bit of fear, Herchel was right about this being dyzeks final moments, he only did not expect it to be like this.

    A single tear began to fall from his eye as he saw the abomination laughing and saw his brothers face within this creatures armor. hearing the warrior announce its name, Herchel knew one thing about this situation, He needed to survive for the chapter, Like Dyzek ordered him, Herchel didn't know what he was gonna say before this monster took him and his body, But Herchel knew he needed to complete the mission and make sure the dawnbrigners survie this.

    Acting like himself he picked up his hammer with the only arm he could his bionic one. "Those iron hands boys seems they were right about one thing about the flesh being weak." Gritting his teeth Herchel listen to lucius. "The everglorius what? never heard of you why don't you tell me about that weird faultless blade title, never heard of it before." Herchel said and with his hammer he began moving backwards, his mind had memorized these trenchs like every other marine and like dyzek himself, It came to Herchel's mind he wondered if that thing had any of dyzeks mind with him being in that armor, if so he would know the lay out as well and worst the quickest way to the librarians, and there Oh... Herchel grimaced at the thought of him knowing about all there secrets,

    Wincing he noticed his damaged state and also remembered the war going on, Herchel knew he could not hang around here with this thing, Especially facing him in a one on one dual with him getting the first cheap shot in like the scum he was. If he was going to cheat Herchel would have to do the same by doing the one thing the iron warrior knew how to do. Break stuff.

    Moving backwards Herchel took his thunder hammer and would strike at the supports at the bunker and begin moving as quickly as towards the exit and keep smashing to either cause a collapse on the bastard or block him from getting to Herchel or fending him off as Herchel moved back. Herchel's mind watching and memory already replaying what happend the last tiem he took on a emporer's Children and melee not going very well for him due to the bastards speed if he could atleast take that away from him he just might have a chance.

    OOC One defense on Herchel, One indirect attack at Lucius by smacking at the supports and making move for the nearest exit for the surface. Attempting to slow him down/block him form gettign to me
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  7. "Running away? Tsk Tsk, how bland."

    A crack would sound out, as the coiling, fleshy tendrils of Lucius' whip would sound out, it's barbed length looking to halt the exit of the other warrior. Cataphracti armour was mighty, and steadfast like a tank, yet, it lacked in agility and speed, two things the chaos space marine had in abundance. Skipping about, light on his feet, Lucius would pursue the terminator, who's now exposed back made for a delicious target. His sword would flash out, gleaming with unholy light, as he looked to slice at the gaps in the armour, the segment between thigh and lower legs, cutting out Maximilian's knees from behind him.

    "I didn't think you had it in you, Herchel."

    The voice purred, like a lover, so intimate and pleased with itself.

    "I thought you were made of sterner stuff. What was the old war cry?"

    A cackle would follow, before the swordsman would clear his throat. Any time Maximilian would attempt to turn, to round upon Lucius, the swordsman would move, his superior mobility keeping him behind the bulky warrior. A voice would sound out, perfectly in tone with that voice that Dyzek had once carried, before Terra, before The Heresy.

    "Iron Within! Iron Without!"


    Another laugh, another crack of the whip, another example of the duelist playing with his prey.

    "It seems as if you were robbed of your mettle when your bastard father abandoned you all. Broken things, trying desperately to keep your form. So fragile, so delicate."


  8. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    Herchel Grunted in pain as he felt one of his knee caps go. "Yeah are dads a bit of a Dick, even ruined our old war cry, and our good olde banner, Though we got a new one to kick ass under," Herchel grunted out in rage and anger thunder hammer in a Iron hand fought as he twisted back Lucius dodging him as he did. "Alwalys speed and dodging with you panzees, and your two timed sword tricks, I swear Marcus's face is still engrained into my ass plates from last time!"

    Herchel said with rage as he began swinging his hammer as he expected missing, as lcuius dodge His whip like tentacles coming around his leg Herchel spotting it slammed down on it with his hammer before lucius went in for a kick, to his chest and a stab, "And you forsaken tricks!" Herchel grunted as he then attempted to head but and body check the champion of chaos back causing lucius to be pushed back for once. Lucius boots connecting with the ground with ease

    "I will show you some iron Panzzee! by shoving my hammer so far up your arse, that next time you walk to your father Old Fabius and him will have to work toghter to remove it!" Herchel yelled out his hammer coming up once more for combat
  9. "YeeeEeeEEeEEs, I saw your banner, it burned beautifully into ashes, along with your brother, Nathiel."

    The swordsman gave a happy sigh, satisfaction clear upon the deranged face of the mad man. Twirling about, he'd spin about his whip in an arc, leaping back from where Maximilian had slammed into his armour plating. The force from the loyalist's efforts only served to add distance to Lucius' flight, the swordsman landing lightly upon his feet, as he gave a cackle, and charged in once more. His sword was like metallic lightning, striking out in an instant, his whip, like corded and glistening tendons cracking off with each barbed cut inflicted upon the terminator clad warrior. Armoured in his plate, Maximilian would be proof against damages that could level a battle tank, yet, Lucius was not going for one overwhelming hit, but looked to bleed and toy with the marine. With legs hampered, and arm crippled, he was as a prey beast, slowly bleeding out, subject to the darting attacks of a predator.

    "So slow, so rigid, just as all the others in your putrid legion. I swear, I am doing a service to your brothers, aborting this band of bastard sons from ever truly being one of The Corpse Emperor's slaves."

    Scratching metal, peeling ceremite, as Lucius hacked another plate with his blade, the edge seemingly pulsating with pleasure in the act. Giving a cackle, Lucius would continue to move about, a blur in the eyes of the heavily injured Dawnbringer. Toxins would be ravaging the loyalist, foul serums and elixirs tainting the weapons of the traitor even further, and damaging the organs of a man never meant to endure them.

    "But it seems, I've had all the fun I can have with you, broken man. Play time is over."


    Lucius would lunge would with a fist, his blade kicked up into the air, as all of a sudden, armoured gauntlet crashed into Maximilian's face. Strike was swiftly followed, once, twice, three more times, in the span of a single heartbeat, bone breaking, flesh bruising. The swordsman would kick away from the marine, flowing back from a haphazard return strike of the thunder hammer, before flicking out with his whip. Gleaming in the air, the duelist's blade still spun, only seconds away from it's master's grip. Coiling around it's hilt, Lucius displayed his skill in battle, along with an almost supernatural control over the pink tendril, as he brought own the cord, with all the swiftness of a descending eagle. Pain would erupt in Maximilian's throat, as from above, Lucius' blade would stab into him, burying itself hungrily into his flesh, until the hilt slammed against his collarbone.

    With a flick of his wrist, Lucius would stride over to the marine, looking him in the eyes, before giving a happy coo. Reaching out, the swordsman would grip his blade's hilt, and would give a soft smile.

    "I think we're done here."

    Before he'd twist, letting a fountain of gore burst out, showering them both.​
  10. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    Herchel's and Maximillian's Last Gambit

    Maximillian, Herchel, looked into the eyes of the swords men a killer, a monster and demon, His rage and bittereness plastered over bis bloodied and bruised face, He gritted his teeth in rage and anger as he tried to get out a final anger raging yell forward, the only thing preventing that was the Grip on his hammer. His body burned, his organs screaming out as they all worked just to keep him alive much less moving. blood, and a buring liquid would leak over his beard and out of his mouth.

    Herchel had to spite the bastard he had to get some victory over this for the dawn bringers if he did not survive this, It was of likely little chance of him warning the others, and he could only hope his lieutenant and sergeants would take command if the knights of dawn didn't find him to have someone take command and beat fulgrim He had trust in them and his brothers. To get the job done, Kerebos company, Akar, Carlous Ozzy Alexander, Marcus, The sergeants that made up his company and the many others even if he wasn't there. Could do it

    Through a combination of blood and and Acidic spit that was gathering in Herchel's mouth He spit forward into the face of the monster that had come from Dyzek's body. Lucius trying to move back Herchel's hammer would come up to meet the swordsmen's blade If Herchel Couldn't kill this bastard or escape, He would at least try take his weapon away from him to make it a bitch getting through other forces. To shatter the silver blade he so cooed and gloated over with his skills. "If I cant beat ya... I will make it easier.. for the next one of us...." Herchel said spitefully his vision began to blur as well his hearts beating as a foul poison began setting all his veins on fire, and his own will barley keeping him inchs away from statis and death.

    As Herchel floated close to death he could hear a old voice in the back of his head. "From iron comeths strength..." The unbreakable lithany only warped in changed as his thoughts began to fade from it.

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