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Open Challenge
01.05.04, 05:32:03
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Post #1 (permalink) |
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I'm opening a challenge to whoever would like to accept it...
What i'm looking for in an opponent is skill, at least active every two-three days, and who wants to branch this out beyond just a battle. Thats pretty much it xD Alright then... Whoever thinks they can take it seriously, go ahead...
I'll be using Falrog, entry three in my bio's...
Location I don't really care about right now, as long as the environment is exciting and not the same old same old barren plains idea everybody seems to take a battlefield for.
Rules, i'm not going to be strict, just no god modding, and, well, thats pretty much it.
[This is not following my one intro post, # battle post, one kill post idea xD Decided it would be nice to just try rp it free-ish] |
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100% Creamy Goodness
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The rain poured heavily upon the ground, filling depressions in the soil with water. As it hit the foliage in the trees, it trickled towards the ground bowing to the laws of gravity. It had been raining for three days non stop yet it did not deter Rekka from the chase. He had been tracking a particular sort of prey for many months and he felt he was getting closer. Yet Rekka had the horrible feeling that the prey would turn out to be the predator.
The Temple of Light, where he had learned his skills, recited many prayers, felt a world away from him now. He had hoped that his deeds had reached his homeland and that they knew of the struggle he was facing. The sanctity he had once had among the priests and warriors meant nothing in the outside world. Dangers lurked in every corner, darkness prevailed more in the hearts of those he met than the kindness and compassion he saw back home
Maybe my quest is pointless but I will not stand idly by when there are those that need help and justice to be done.
Vaporil clung in its scabbard by his right hand side moving to and fro in keeping with Rekkas fast stride. Rekkas armour weighed heavy due to the moisture content it now contained yet it was not as heavy as his heart was. Rekka had vanquished foes, animals and enemies alike in his quest to restore the natural order of things. He had seen friends die in his arms, villages ransacked and memories of this flooded his mind as he pursued his next foe.
The face of the one whom he now chased loomed large in his mind, seemingly eclipsing the various memories stored in his mind. News had reached him many months ago of a being that would have to be confronted sooner rather than later. Rumours and hearsay provided little information but from what he gleamed, the being was not to be taken lightly at all. It would provide Rekkas toughest test to date.
Trees creaked around him as he came to a clearing in a forest- the wind blew strong as if cleansing the air of the presence of evil. The hoot and calls of various animals broke the silence of the night. He saw before him the entrance to a temple and around him were various columns in different states of degradation. Huge blocks lay strewn about the temple entrance which left no way to enter the place. Roots and plantlife had begun growing under the stone earth. It fascinated Rekka to see such wonders of nature, which renewed him with a sense of his purpose in life.
His right hand gripped on Vaporils hilt. He got the sense that he was not alone. Standing motionless for a second, as if composing himself, he abruptly turned around and announced in a voice that boomed:
Foul Half-Breed show yourself to me |
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Quote:
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Quoth Albel Nox:
Imho? it's emo, douche.So if you're going to call me emo do it right.not imao, ihmo, or imo, but EMO.
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Last edited by Blitzballer : 01.05.04 at 10:21:41.
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Falrog let out a war cry as he took on an assemblage of dastardly rouges in the woodland clearing. They had obviously never seen anything like him, and had attacked him out of abhorrence. They were pitiable, like many humans Falrog had crushed in his time. His dual axes made short work of most of them, slicing through the blood and bone like they were one and the same. Each fell in screams, until finally, there left the leader, shivering in his spot, leaking out onto the soil below his feet. Falrog grinned a toothy grin, and sheathed both axes into their slots on his back. With a simple motion of his hand, raising his right in front of him and then flexing his fingers, he let out a few bone cracks from within the fingers.
“Ready to join your friends, filth?” Falrog said, full of apathy.
The vagabond was obviously not ready to do so, and was showing no nerve whatsoever. Falrog was tiring of this world, it lacked any people with backbone, and they were all chickens of the uppermost measure.
“No? It doesn’t matter, yer meeting them anyway.”
Falrog let out a vulgar chuckle as his hand laid grasp on the rogue, grasping him around the throat, and lifting him high off the ground. With a single thrust of his other hand upon the scoundrel’s chest, he heard bones fracture, and saw the blood flow from out of the man’s mouth like a cataract. And with a shift of his hand once more, the body was flung into a tree, aimed so it would dangle limped from a branch.
It seemed Falrog would have to leave this planet, despite its rather agreeable climate, and go back home. There would be the usual merriment, the Orcs always celebrating because they were languid bastards who liked having reasons to not work. It was detesting, but not as much as the thought of having to put up with the aggravating royal advisor. He was a real bastard of an Orc, and that meant a lot considering Orcs were a generally ghastly creatures. All he did was take the piss out of Falrog to the point where Falrog would just lose his mind, and there was nothing the Orc Warlord could do about the bugger, he was elected by the Kajaran people, and if killed, they would all revolt, and yet again Falrog would have to unite them, a bloody waste of time over the killing of a single being.
But Falrog was loosing his track, and it was getting dark. He would spend one more day here, and then return, for he needed to gather his power to send his matter across the Heavens back to his own world. It had been a few months since he came to this world, and word had probably travelled fast that he was here, obviously the rationale being he was a seven foot five monster that killed a lot of people. Further away, there was a structure of sorts, and it seemed integral enough to sleep in. The recently deceased had probably used it as their hideout, and Falrog figured it would serve his purposes fine. He approached with mind, not exactly fearful, but instead just for a free opportunity to crack a skull without pester. As soon as it became clear the building was empty, Falrog entered a man-made hole in the wall, the entrance itself being blocked by long fallen blocks of the original building, having to practically crouch to avoid hitting his head upon the ceiling. There were symbols everywhere, depicting beings with wings and horns, obviously a sign of worship. Falrog hated the idea of religion, and had he been feeling less worn-out, he would have crushed a few of the pictures. But instead, he found a clammy, shadowy room, and rested his being there.
When he awoke, it was already noon, and the sun was shining in from the gaps in the forest rooftop. It seemed a slightly bright and breezy day, not the kind of ambience the war veteran liked much at all. But there did indeed seem to be something worth smiling about. Falrog could feel the energy of a being near him, something that only happened when worthy challengers were met, but this man’s energy was different. It seemed to be filled with righteousness, not a trait found in most warriors. Honour, yes, valour, yes, but never good intentions. Falrog would soon see to this fellow, because he knew exactly how to take care of such people. He stormed out as the man called to him.
“Foul Half-Breed show yourself to me”
Falrog practically fumed, and let out his own bellow to catch attention.
“What, filthy human!? Have you come to challenge me, or have you come simply to chatter? I figure the second; you look little more than an infant.”
Falrog laughed. How such force could be stimulated from a kid was beyond him, and yet, didn’t worry him. With a motion made famous to a billion orcs, he threw both his arms over his shoulders, each arm reaching for the opposite shoulder, and pulled out both his axes, letting their metal glimmer in the sunlight that shone through.
A howl was let off in the distance, and a shattering tempest swept in from all sides, as if signs the Earth itself was protesting against this battle. And with this wind sending his hair into a state of juddering, Falrog bared his sharp teeth at the man who stood before him.
“Let’s see if you still stand in ten minutes.”
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Crap post  |
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As soon as Rekkas challenging statement escaped his own lips, a voice more powerful and resonate in nature mockingly rebuked:
“What, filthy human!? Have you come to challenge me, or have you come simply to chatter? I figure the second; you look little more than an infant.”
The blocks that had barred Rekka from entering the temple were torn asunder by the hybrid being he saw before him. The voice pierced the silence that surrounded them- Rekka did not know whether the blast of wind that threatened to blow him back was made by nature or by the being speaking to him. Rekka was a good few inches smaller than the figure before him and poised himself with his right foot planted behind him, his left in front- toe end facing the beast. A glint of sunlight fell upon the hilt of Vaporil, giving it a holy glow that seemed to invigorate Rekka once more. With his two hands he unsheathed Vaporil from its scabbard and held in a defensive position, with the tip of the blade towards the left of his head and the hilt at the lower right end of his torso.
A laugh, menacing and patronising, disturbed his thoughts. An air of perversion hung around the figure and tainted the air around them. The being threw his arms wide, almost in a berserker style stance to frighten his enemies, then both went to the beings back. Two shining objects now resided in each of its hands:
Dual Wielding? Two axes? This IS going to be interesting.
Rekka pondered to himself as he saw the already imposing figure look even more the picture of a being of destruction.
Glimpsing around the makeshift arena before him as the being did this, there was a noticable change of light in the sky. A more darker tinge had enveloped the heavens. The wind itself seemed to shriek in agony- heralding to all far and wide an event was about to occur that would not only change the two figures and the world they were on, but would have profound implications across dimensions. Billowing in the wind, Rekkas cape and armour gave the impression that the lightweight material would not stand up to much- Rekka knew better. Rekkas already ruffled hair flew about his face:
"Lets see if you stand there in ten minutes"
The Orcish beings words were barely audible above the howling of the wind around them, but the threatening nature certainly hit home. Twigs and leaves circled around in the wind as the two figures geared themselves for what was about to occur.
Orcs were not reknowned for their wit and repartee and elven power was in their nimbleness not strength. A combination of the two is most deadly and a force to be reckoned with:
Long is the way and hard that out of Hell leads up to Light
Rekka thought to himself as he prepared to move first. An long winded battle would be hopeless. His Orc endurance would see to that:
I must do something that he would least expect. I must strike him and strike him hard
He pondered as he surveyed his opponent. Rekkas eyes gleamed for a moment as he seemed to have a plan.
"With Light as my guide, i will slay you where you stand fell beast"
Rekka let out a war cry that suprised even him. It seemed to life him up and with a second he was running towards the beast. With each resounding crunch of each footfall, so was his heartbeat. Rekka had picked exactly where he would strike the beast, he could not falter or change his mind or the chances of it hitting would diminish:
He will expect a blow towards a vital organ. I will not give him the pleasure of it yet
Rekka had advanced to the point where he could smell the dank and disgusting breath of the beast. Rekka planted his right foot on the floor and brought Vaporil over his head and arched it towards the left wrist of the being. Rekkas eyes bulged with determination, his facial features contorted into emphasising his effort and will to smite this foe. Strangely, Vaporil made a noise that seemed to cut through the very air itself- as if splitting atoms in the air, making it much faster and hopefully a truer strike. |
Last edited by Blitzballer : 01.05.04 at 18:34:07.
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After his last words were spoken, the wind seemed to pick up even more, but now as if it were a hurricane, with Falrog and his adversary standing in the very epicentre of the tornado. It seemed too picturesque for a mêlée, something that could be suspended from a wall and displayed for future epochs to come. No such instant ever came in veracity, and thus Falrog was beginning to question why it was happening.
Almost drowning himself in contemplation, Falrog noticed a tensing in his opponent’s sinews, as if he was preparing to make a move, where to and how was still indefinite, but it alerted Falrog enough for him to taut every muscle in his body to prepare for action. He even saw now what his rival planned to do, apparent as the skylight had been; the strategy was imposed not only on his opponent’s iris, but on how everything about his conduct seemed to change to face a firm route, but not one of a physical aspect.
“With Light as my guide, I will slay you where you stand fell beast” the boy said as his battle manifesto.
Both of Falrog’s blades screeched down each other, letting out a metallic tingle, and Falrog roared in response to his enemy’s pathetic attempt at a war cry, in spite of the fact it seemed to satisfy the human. The Warlord himself had seen better war cries from the pure Elves, known to be womanly. Nothing about this kid seemed to complement. He was supposedly commanding of power, and yet, gave the complete outer appearance that he was weedy and wretched.
But for the first time in the battle, Falrog noticed the sword. He often didn’t care much for his opponent’s weapon, for they were always inferior, but this seemed to at least match half of Gilroth, and even that was just being kind. But it would be enough to channel a superior battle aura. He chuckled in his mind as to how he could have been tricked so easily, despite his status as an old hand to war.
He had apparently fallen in deep reflection once more, and noticed his enemy closer than before, so close in fact, Falrog would be able to shuffle his fist to the side and knock his opponent over. But he would pretend to be in shock, and see what this kid would decide to do. Falrog guessed he was going to endeavour to surprise him, something that never worked half as well as a good sword being rammed into the stomach to slay, but the kid probably hadn’t even finished sucking on his mother’s tit. And Falrog wanted to play out this last kill on the planet as long as he could, for it wasn’t often he got to fight in the woods, much less woods being swept with gales not of his own doing.
As the blade, that Falrog had only recently noticed, headed towards his left wrist, despite the gauntlet which lay imposingly against attackers, and that arm itself was sending itself in brute potency to meet the sword. Falrog could see in the boy’s eyes he was determined, and although that was formidable in itself, it needed proficiency to back it up.
And then the sword made a screech, as if it were destroying the very air in the region around it.
Falrog grinned with repulsive amusement. It excited him this weapon could show such speediness and might, and as it closed into about a centimetre’s range of his gauntlet, he wasn’t afraid of what would happen next.
An ear-splitting harsh twang, like the thud of two swords congregating, rang across the verdant forest.
For a moment, it felt like a thousand surges of electrical energy had been sent through Falrog’s left arm, for the pain was numbing. As far as he could tell as his arm jittered, the ebony-coloured gauntlet lay undamaged, but the blow had caused his fingers to unfasten and drop Gilroth onto the forest floor.
But his foe was now right next to him, and Falrog would have to ram him back. He sent his semi-protected knee into where the kid’s gut should be, and forced his still recuperating left hand into the boy’s shoulder, compelling him backwards.
Without loosing a beat, Falrog bent down on his right knee knee, his belt armour collapsing to the soil, sending dust clouds upwards, like a group of snakes, and brought his left hand around the hilt of the fallen weapon, holding it tight there.
With unrivalled propellant, he used his right leg to shove him up off the earth, sending him a full metre into the air diagonally. Through the air he soared, gaining speed both going up and down, only helped by the weather. As he returned by the regulation of gravity, he landed into a vile sprint that reeked of eventual death.
Each ligament of his was now pulsating with oomph, and he was grunting like a bull. In that very personality he brought his head down so that the helmet with its horns served their purpose as a weapon, while he could still see the way ahead of him, both axes standing ready to make work of what the horns didn’t finish.
“Unless you can work magic, rut, I will finish you now!” Falrog bellowed with more supremacy than he had had before. It was required, for the wind was still picking up pace around them, sending leaves in between the two contestants in this game of life or death, and causing a pain in Falrog’s ears at the same time.
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In his war cry, advancement and sword blow towards the beast, he had noticed it had only served to enrage the being further. Yet there was almost a dismissive posture too- as if stating that Rekka would not succeed where so many had failed. Rekka realised that such a figure of many battles knew all the tricks in the book- yet he had no room to falter from his stroke:
If this blow does not land and strike true, I will be open and vulnerable
Vaporil seemed to scream through the air- as if yearning to cleave this foes flesh, wanting to taste, rip and eviscerate an opponent worthy of it. Rekka thought he was the one arching the blade towards the beasts left arm yet, whether due to the howling wind or the actual sword itself guiding Rekka, the quickness startled even the wielder. As the blood coursed through Rekkas veins, evident in his neck as he craned it at his foe, his grip tightened on the hilt. Suprisingly, the beast seemed momentarily locked in thought as Rekka had advanced and begun arching the blade at him:
This foe is either too ****y or worse- sure of himself
Momentary panic would have to be put aside as Rekkas mind doubted even himself. His face and body movement told a picture of a man hell-bent in destroying his foe. It was an attack that the beast before him would no doubt expect and think he could deal with. The figure and appearance of Rekka did not reveal what such a devotee to Light was capable of- this gives the element of surprise and an advantage. Yet the move Rekka was doing was typical but with a twist. Rekka had seen what a heavy clad being his foe was. This could not deter him from his goal in this movement. His foe had two huge axes that needed his entire attention. Singling one out and disarming it was forefront in Rekkas mind. Rekka gritted his teeth as the blade arched passed his head and towards the beings left wrist. Astonishingly, the beings left arm almost seemed to be lifting to meet the oncoming attack- dismissing the move even as if it would not be powerful enough. Rekkas eyes flashed, a smile cracked on the right side of his mouth at the beasts confidence:
He will know pain this day. He may have fought wars and left unscathed. This was due to the fear others had. I fear no one and will smite him down
The sound of the wind howled about them. The tempest had heightened, yet it was another sound that made Rekkas heart skip a beat. Vaporils blade made a sound that pierced the crescendo around them. Its pace quickened more so than usual. The being before him seemed noticeably excited at this unusual event. His outstretched left arm seemed eager to greet the force being wielded by Rekka. Sword met gauntlet with a noise that shattered the sound barrier itself. It was as if two opposable forces, that should never have met, were being a challenge to everything natural. Rekka hoped that the beast felt the blow through his massive gauntlet and took a glance at his opponent as the blow finished. The gauntlet itself seemed untouched, save for a mark where the blade had connected:
It cannot be…
Rekka felt his heart fall for a brief second. What happened next astonished him beyond belief. Rekka, though in a defenceless position, saw the fingers around the axe unclasp it. The blow had worked. A dull thud greeted the axe as it fell on the foliage on the floor. This small victory was short lived however as Rekka realised his foe could retaliate. Rekka tensed his muscles as he tried vainly to bring Vaporil and more so himself into an upright position. The beings knee connected with Rekkas gut, sending Rekka doubling on himself, releasing his breath from his mouth. He felt his stomach being unnaturally forced backwards in his body as his foes knee left its mark. Shockwaves of pain spread from his stomach to other parts of his body. Rekka's eyes squinted; his mouth winced at the pain, showing Rekka's teeth feebly trying to clasp themselves to prevent a cry of pain escaping. It was not over. The opponents left hand, the one that Rekka had sought to damage, met with Rekka's right shoulder. The knee in the abdomen had left Rekka vulnerable; the shove with the left jerked him violently backwards. The pain from the knee kick hurt the most. It ravaged and wracked him with pain, Yet the shove backwards could be a mixed blessing. It meant time to recuperate for him- but also for his foe.
As Rekka was pushed backwards, he tried with his strength not to fall over, with Vaporil loosely held in his right hand. He had managed to keep his footing and able to muster reserves of strength. He saw his opponent kneel down in a bid to grasp at the fallen weapon:
He has seen I can disarm him. He can have his axes. It will not save him when the inevitable comes.
The wind wailed like a thousand banshees around him, billowing in his cape and armour as he resumed an upright position- preparing him for retaliation. He saw that behind him was a huge granite rock from the Temple- useful. Rekka was breathing regularly now, the pain strong though subsiding in his gut. It was the initial contact that was the worst. His foe was up to something. It had regained it axe- as though it was an extension of the being itself. Rekka then saw something that showed the elven nature in the beast. It had used its right leg to propel itself a metre or so into the air:
Nimble, strong and agile- a fierce combination indeed.
Rekka thought in his mind. Half Breeds, though not of pure blood, have some strengths it seems. The upward motion of the being interrupted the wind that swirled around them. As the being landed back on the earth, Rekka saw the intentions of his foe. The ground shook as it landed back on earth but no sooner had it landed, it was running directly for Rekka. The footfalls of the beast pounded the earth as Rekka saw it lower its head towards him:
“Unless you can work magic, runt, I will finish you now!”
The foe before him bellowed as it continued its charge towards Rekka. The volume of the voice was decibels above the shrieking wind that enveloped them:
Magic? Magic? Placing too much trust in magic is a downfall
Reliance on mystical powers, Rekka left for extreme measures. This was not one of them. Charging at him, the figure had thought he had grasped the nature of the innocent looking human in front of him:
“You do not see the bigger picture. For all your elven blood, the Orc in you prevails doesn’t it? You are a deluded fool”
Rekka's voice boomed as he prepared to show the foe what he meant. Rekka had no shield in which to defend against this violent charge. Vaporil could not aid him either. He sheathed it as a smile broke on his face. The granite stone was still behind him. He took a step back- just to make sure. Rekka saw a clump of rock just in front of him, which would provide the escape:
If I pull this off, I can escape unscathed and injure the foe as well.
Rekka's mind was set. As the beast neared him, he would show him that he was not the only one that could take to the air. The rocks in front of him were Rekka's target- they would provide leverage that he needed. Rekka looked as if he was on a course to meet the being heading on his position and ran forward- an act of bravado? Sheer madness and folly? Rekka planted his left foot firmly on the ground as blood coursed through his heart and veins. His right foot followed in its stride. It met the rocks on the floor, with the heel providing a hold in the ground. Rekka strained every sinew in his right leg to gain enough strength to leave the earth and disobey gravity. He felt himself rise into the air and the second part of his plan would come into fruition- his shruikens:
I’m going to make it..I'm..
Rekka's thoughts were interrupted by the onrushing hybrid. The right horn on its helmet had connected with his left shin and pierced it. Blood ran forth as Rekka's momentum was disturbed. It gushed in a spurt as the beast passed underneath him, spraying on the beast and on the forest floor. A cry of anguish and pain escaped Rekka's mouth as his right hand began searching in his robe as he fell to the floor. His shruiken needed to be deployed and now while he was in the air. As the beast seemingly charged to meet the rock, a distraction was needed that would allow Rekka to fall and see to the damage the horn had done. His stars were found in his robe and although he could not target as properly as he would like- it could work. The beasts’ back was turned, still in its charge. It may surprise, it may not. Rekkas right hand arched back and quickly slung-shot forward, releasing the stars towards its target- one headed for the area of the semi-protected knee, one for the beasts neck and the other to the gut of the being. Targeting three such areas was hard enough standing upright. Rekka released them as a diversion. His right leg extended towards the floor, as his left was the one that bore the brunt of the horn. His right foot planted firmly on the forest floor and as his left greeted the ground too, albeit gingerly, the pain worsened. He cast a glance towards his foe to see if his ruse had worked. |
Last edited by Blitzballer : 01.06.04 at 12:10:12.
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[OOC: You know, i'm beginning to see what this Temple of Light actually is. Its not some good organization, its a bunch of racists who hate half-breeds isn't it?! xD God David, don't you have work to do other than reply fast? ]
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Everything had gone according to plan, and Falrog was pleased. As he reflected on how faultlessly his knee had connected, knowing it had because of the look of pain strewn across the boy’s face, and how the push had caused the boy to loose his steadiness. But he had steadied himself considerably quickly, and now, with Falrog in his run, it seemed this would not augur well. It was too late now to impede; the speed he had built up was sizeable.
“You do not see the bigger picture. For all your elven blood, the Orc in you prevails doesn’t it? You are a deluded fool”
The man was barmy, Falrog could perceive it. To call an Orc, one imbued with magic none the less, “deluded”, was a gaffe no commonsensical being would make. And the kid had no shield of any sorts to block him from the ram that Falrog was going to be. There was a nice slab of granite behind the boy that Falrog intended to drive the kid into after goring him.
Something was wrong however. This missionary was charging right back at Falrog, a declaration of his insanity. Falrog wouldn’t stop however; he broke this being’s tenacity down to a sense of heroism in which he made this endeavour at killing the Warlord. But then, it caught Falrog’s eye, just moments before the human used it to his benefit. There was a constellation of rocks that would serve a footstone for a jump semi-equivalent of the one he had made, and that had been a, effortless, natural-made one. But the kid was human, and Falrog was more concerned about what this meant for his strategy. The bound, for example, would not authorize complete escape from his attack, and instead just provide significant injuries to the kid’s lower body. That is, if Falrog could position the horns at just the right angle to pierce a single leg. And just as the kid jumped, Falrog raised his neck ever so slightly, and made it so that his right horn lay slightly above his left.
He felt as it ripped through the kid’s shin, he felt as the human blood dropped down onto his own face, and even onto the leather armour. But this didn’t provide much elation for Falrog, because he was still headed towards the provisional granite wall. This meant he didn’t have time to relish the cry of pain the boy let out in the air, and instead meant he would have to brace himself for contact. Falrog had many times before crashed into walls, but usually wooden ones, and a stone slab was not looking pleasant. And then it came, and Falrog hit it with the extensive force of his body, trying as hard as he could not to have any of it hit his face, or any matter of his head.
There was practically an explosion as the rock burst outwards, sending smaller pieces of itself everywhere. Falrog buckled onto his knees, coughing both because of the dust that was everywhere around him, and because of the pain that had sent itself, on collision, through the entirety of his individual. But there was still something to worry about; the hunter inside Falrog could tell it. Three separate whizzing sounds, like metal flying through the air could be heard behind him, coming closer. But at the moment, he could only hope they weren’t aimed properly.
At almost the same exact moment, he felt a razor-sharp article pierce slightly to the left of his spine, and one slightly below that, whilst another zoomed over his bent head. They had probably been aimed elsewhere, but he had bent and not received their full reprimand. But it was a deadly substitute, because he was facing colossal pain from the rock body attack, and the thick, red Orc blood was oozing out from the small but significant wounds on his back. In his pained state, these entities were causing more damage than they were valued.
“You, dismal creature, are a coward. It doesn’t matter you are from the Light, it doesn’t mean anything! What are these small contraptions you have sent to pierce my back? You would be so cowardly as to attack a man’s back? And in full fledged battle at that! I have killed many from behind, but only out of surreptitiousness. You sicken me beyond principle. I heard tell of a being named Illuminar once, an Elf, of an Order of Light. He was praised as to combating a dark knight, who brought a whole building upon this elf’s back, and STILL Illuminar didn’t resort to a cowardly back attack. I am sickened by the fact I am fighting you, do you realize that?”
Falrog, after grunting, brought both of his blades, still in his hands even after the assault on the granite, slicing down into the ground, and used them to assist bring his body up into a standing position once more. Carefully, he brought his right hand up to remove the petite metal objects from his body, and after examining them, he threw them down into the ground in repugnance. Once more he grasped the handles of his axes and brought them out the dirt. Falrog let out his tongue, and wiped the area around his mouth, for he knew it to be stained with the blood of his enemy.
The tang of the human’s blood was saccharine, but was defiled with sanctity. That was one trait Falrog hated having, for it meant if a being had any holy alignment, Falrog would taste it and get burned. If they were evil though, he could cherish it slightly. And Falrog noticed there contained a hint of unrighteousness in this blood, and he let out a sinister chortle.
“It seems as if you are not as holy as you appear. You have confronted many shadowy beings haven’t you? Beings of power! And you are tainted, indeed you are! SO THAT IS WHERE I SENSE YOUR POWER FROM! I think I faintly taste the dark knight in it! WHAT IS YOUR NAME HUMAN?!”
Falrog exposeds his teeth, with even more menacing flare, for they were bloodied this time around. It seemed he had finally found a living being that had brawled with the legendary Sarakon! He was finally closing in on the knight, somebody he had heard about on quite a few planets; the knight king that could come back from the dead over and over and even held a way of transporting between planets, not at all | | | |
