Sir Nathaniel

Defenders, Landonia. In one of the lulls between the fighting, Nathan took stock of the situation. The Watchers were making headway against their enemies on all fronts. Max and Gale were ripping through the hordes, dozens falling in minutes. Arthur and Elias fought fiercely against the necromancers commanding them. Aided by the two castle's troops, they began to set up defensive lines on each island and steadily increased their efforts. Every projectile available was pressed into service and began to tear through the cadavers. A half an hour of constant shooting and ripping and tearing and the flood of undead began to thin. Little by little, the team and their allies were culling the dead's numbers as more corpses went down and stayed down. Nathan's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something in the distance. At that moment his jaw dropped in surprise and delight. Airships! Airships arriving, carrying living troops. With a whoop of joy, he heralded the newcomers. Relief had come at last.

It was only a minute or so before Nathan abandoned his efforts. Fighting for a grudge would accomplish nothing, he realized as he collected himself. His anger faded away as he looked upon the Landonian footmen battling around him. “There’s no time for games anymore.” He muttered. To his opponent, he gave a silent, murderous look before he leaped away. He landed a fair distance away, atop a piece of collapsed masonry overlooking much of the battlefield. “Landonians!” He shouted. “Prepare to fire every missile and war machine, on my signal, unleash everything!” As before, the troops obeyed; loading every ballista and trebuchet all along the walls. In preparation, the archers drew their bows and waited. With that, Nathan raised his sword once more, beckoning the entirety of the storm’s lightning into it. As before, a bolt of electricity descended into the blade and empowered it with blinding illumination. Energy crackled and popped around the edge before he released it in a slash: A beam of energy, no less powerful than the previous one, but far more concentrated in its intensity. Dozens more creatures were electrocuted by the blast. Their bodies disintegrated the moment they were hit; only the blast didn’t stop there. It trailed off in every direction, each arc gaining strength and size as it passed between targets. By the time it dissipated, fifty or more had fallen. They were quickly followed into oblivion as Nathan raised his arm and the defenders opened fire with every projectile they had. Ballista, a rain of arrows, catapult fire, even some of the people hurled rocks and pieces of furniture at the enemy. Whatever could be used as a weapon was pressed into repelling the hordes. ————————————————— As per their orders, Max and Gale were on the opposite side of the city, assisting the defenders in their own way: While their allies were evacuating the citizens, both were directing their full power into the enemy. Max let loose holy fire whilst bellowing prayers of righteous wrath. Beside him, Gale let loose torrents of icy water that froze any foe it touched. “Blessed be the Gods that teach my hands to war and my fingers to fight.” Max quoted as his swords rent the head off an attacking ghoul. The body burned away from the heat they gave off. “My fortress and my deliverance.” A second strike, and a blast of fire incinerated a distant necromancer. “My shield, in whom I trust. Who are they, mere mortals who are like a breath of air. Like a fleeting shadow. Part the Heavens and scatter the enemy with your arrows. Reach down from the Heavens and rescue me from the power of my enemy, who’s mouth is full of lies and whose hands are full of deceit.” With each word, the heat and glow surrounding him intensified. Soon, any foe caught in it burst into flames and burned to ashes.

I have a big post ahead. I’ve decided a little change of strategy is necessary. (Grin of audacity)

Still waiting for Die. If he don’t show, I’ll have to make a post detailing the Watchers completely obliterating his army. Then I think I’ll blow up his house and shoot his dog. (Black comedy) But seriously, I got a whole lot of ideas in mind for a future post.

Guys? It’s been almost a week. I understand if you’re busy. I would like some kind of reply or something.

((Fight music. Nathan vs. Khaedal)) ~Defenders. Landonia~ Nathan's reaction to his foe deflecting his blast had confirmed his suspicion about this so-called Paragon. He wielded great power over lightning, not unlike the Paladin himself. Further, the fact that his attack was repulsed by an equally strong barrier meant their abilities were likely evenly matched. The short duel he had fought with Gerold showed his sword skills - and likely, from his blade, his style was directed towards speed and dominating the opponent through superior mobility. Likely, his blade was enchanted to counter the innate weakness in curved swords; it would not snap or be nicked in a direct clash with a heavy long sword like Godsend. That Nathan was taller, bulkier and heavier meant he probably had the strength advantage. "He is mine." The Paladin murmured. His voice was flat, as if he were in a trance - but his eyes glowed with that telltale blue light that showed he was no longer holding back. His foe would feel his full power in every bite of his blade. "Arthur, Elias take the east. Secure Highmoat. Gale, Max, take the west. Secure Coldstone. Support the Landonian forces to the best of your ability. Whatever happens, do not let either castle fall." To the still-living, still fighting Landonian men on the front line he roared. "All of you with me! Form lines; pikes and spears in front, archers behind! Unleash hell!" As they had seen him in action, the troops saw no reason to disagree with that command. Their leader gone, the Landonians would instead look to the Watchers for guidance. Foreigners or not, they were brave enough to fight beside them and powerful enough to make a massive difference. Troop by troop, company by company, they finished off their immediate attackers wherever they could and stood in line formation: Shields locked shoulder-to-shoulder in the front while spears were raised in between gaps. Archers and crossbowmen loaded and nocked arrows behind them, awaiting the order to fire. "Nock, draw, LOOSE!" Nathan bellowed. "Fire at will!" At that command, they unleashed everything they had - arrows fell like rain over the horde or zipped past - straight into the cultist's ranks. Every shot downed a foe or riddled them with shafts. Before long, a whole wave had fallen to the missiles. Whenever a cluster of them got too close for ranged weapons, spears stabbed wildly - ripping creatures to shreds or impaling them. With that, Nathan turned his attention back to his foe. Gripping Godsend's hilt with both hands, he rushed forward - his powerful legs allowing him to close the distance in seconds. In an instant, true combat was joined as each fought like men possessed; body-to-body and soul-to-soul. Nathan's first attack was a downward slash from a high guard - his foe bringing his own blade up in a sideways parry. Steel sang as their blades impacted each other. Both magically enhanced to be sharper and more durable than any normal metal. Nathan let the blade slide straight down the curved edge before he brought it back in, two handed in a left-to-right slash. The Paragon backed away, just as the tip soared past his ribcage; narrowly avoiding a hit that would have cleaved him in two. Quick indeed, Nathan thought as their deadly dance went about in a similar exchange a second time - the Paladin aiming a downward slash, only to have it slide off the upraised katana. His second attack he aimed in a stab, bringing his weapon back for just a second before he launched himself forward off his back foot - a thrust aimed directly at his foe's heart. Again, the Paragon proved too quick; sidestepping before he brought his weapon around in a curved arc that would have taken Nathan's head from his shoulders. Just before connection, the Paladin raised his left hand and let the blade impact against his bracer. Steel bit into the gauntlet about his fist but did not pierce it. Before his opponent could withdraw again, Nathan raised his right leg and delivered a swift standing side kick to his ribcage. It was a good hit; enough to stagger the Paragon, but not enough to do serious damage. Immediately he drew back into a fighting stance; sword held in both hands. Nathan matched it - his own stance with his sword held mid-level. To any watching the fight, it would appear they were evenly matched. To the two locked in combat, it became obvious they were feeling each other out. This was nothing more than a warmup to gauge the other's abilities. Now that the warmup was over, it was time for the real battle to begin in earnest. ______________________________________________________________________________________________ ~Arthur~ As per Nathan's orders, the Morn twins dashed through the city as fast as their legs could carry them - across bridges, past ramparts and even at one point leaped over rooftops - heading east, always east. Neither wasted any energy or time on words - they both understood the gravity of this situation. Still, Elias being the showboat he was saw fit to accent each leap with a midair flip or stick his landing with a handstand. Arthur in contrast simply barreled his way through any obstacle in his path or vaulted right over it. Before long they reached their destination: Pilgrim's Tower. It was the closest spot to the island they were ordered to defend - and they would hold it. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Elias said as they ascended the stairs - heading to the tower's roof. As they exited through the door and back outside, he knew what was coming. "Time for a Fox-Toss." That was the code word for a maneuver the Watchers had developed in their training. With a nod, Arthur backed away several steps - allowed his brother to raise his spear, then took off in a run as fast as he could. Just before he reached him, Arthur leaped - using his twin's spear-shaft like a makeshift platform. Elias' strength carried him onward and upward - pushing him high enough and far enough to close the distance between the two islands. Arthur landed solidly on his feet - just outside the castle, just as it came under attack by a renewed horde of creatures. Elias followed him - using his spear like a pole-vault and landed beside him with a flourish. "We're here. Now what?" Elias asked a moment before he dispatched the first cultist that attacked with a side-swipe. Unlike his usual play, he opted for a simple decapitation. The hooded man's head rolled along the ground, just coming to a stop before his twin's feet. "Now we form a perimeter before the castle and hold this line!" Arthur declared, raising his spear. The knightly troops had already begun to engage the enemy - word spreading quickly that the Watchers were fighting beside them. Sword, spear, axe and warhammers were drawn and the first of the horde began to fall before a furious counterattack.

There. I just hit the guy with the biggest lightning blast in the history of lightning. Meant for it to be bigger, but I figured that should convey it succinctly. Nathan is pissed. He's officially had it with this undead shit - and he's not going to take it any more.

((Music. Beware, VERY loud!)) ~Defenders - Landonia~ There were very few times that Nathan ever lost his temper or ever showed emotion openly. To his comrades and those who knew him well enough, he kept a tight lid on his emotions until it was safe and appropriate to release it. However, those who knew him best also knew that there were limits to his patience - and his sense of mercy. Paladin or not, Nathan was not a man to be trifled with - especially in regards to those he called friends and allies. When he saw the so-called "Paragon" behead Gerold, something in him... snapped. For the briefest of moments, there was a flash in his eyes, along with a grimace. For a split-second, it seemed his face might contort and turn ugly with hatred. Then what followed was an expression that caused even Arthur's fierce heart to skip a beat. There was cold fury in every line on Nathan's face. Controlled, measured anger that comes only from those who mastered themselves and were in complete control. What followed was Nathan raising his sword, Godsend, high in the air - the blade rippling with electricity. Thunder clapped above them - a storm of catastrophic proportions raged in the clouds - giving all present a hint as to how enraged the Watchers' leader was under the surface. "Stand aside." Nathan said in a voice so calm, so level that it made everyone who heard it quiver. "I will handle this myself." With that, he lowered his blade, unleashing a lightning blast that put all his previous attacks to shame - in size, and intensity - so bright and fierce in its glow that all present had to shut their eyes against it. Aimed directly at the Paragon, it shot forth across the battlefield - instantly obliterating any undead creatures caught in its path. No trace was left to mark their passing - not even a scream as it bolted through them.

Long story short, depression episode. I’ll explain later.

I will post tomorrow. Kind of hung up over here.

This next post is a doozy. I think, the right men in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world, Mr. Die. I think you should look forward to... unforeseen consequences.

~Defenders - Landonia~ Nathan grinned savagely as he watched the cultists strewn about the battlefield like so many feathers caught in a storm. Already, dozens had fallen by the Watchers' blades, yet more would quickly fall before this day was over. He watched as Max and Gale went about their friendly banter and their little contest. He would let them have their fun while he gauged the size and strength of the horde. Once he had that information - and once the initial assault was beaten off, he could formulate a better strategy than mere survival. Unlike his brothers in arms, Nathan intended to completely destroy the attacking army - and the others all across this continent. Before he could do any of that, however, he needed a sitrep with the two most skilled intelligence gatherers of the team. Nathan turned his head, leaning wearily on his sword - just in time to have a corpse attempt to claw out his eyes with rotting fingers. A moment before it could try, before the paladin himself could react, the cadaver's head exploded in a shower of gore - with blood and gray matter splattering over Nathan's boots. He turned again, watching with even greater satisfaction as the Morn brothers directed their psychic powers into any foe out of range of their spears. In each other's presence, their powers were amplified; focused, channeled to a degree where they could cause any number of effects. One of them Nathan found most useful was the psychic link they could establish between the group's members. Once linked, it made it easier and more efficient to communicate between them. Was there a plan here? Arthur's voice in thought form floated into his mind, clear and easily heard over the din of battle. Or are we to keep fighting an endless wave of creatures? Once we break through their lines, we rally the guard into a proper fighting force. Nathan thought back. Then we break the enemy with war machines. That should give us the upper hand. We'll plan our next move then. ___________________________________________________________ Arthur paused the mental conversation for a moment while he drove his spear, two-handed, through the open mouth of an attacking ghoul - the tip jutted right out through its throat. With a jerk and a snarl, he wrenched it straight up - tearing through the rotted flesh and into the creature's brain. When it stopped twitching, he hurled the corpse into a nearby mob, scattering them. His brother vaulted over them, performing a midair sommersault as he did so, then landed on his feet in between them and the controlling necromancers. Three of them, directed their spells at him. It was almost like he was performing in a dance, Arthur mused, as his comrade ducked, wove and flipped his way around each attack. Elias, being the most agile and nimble member of the group had little difficulty alternating between attacking and defensive movement. When he reached the sorcerers, he finished them all with one stab of his spear each - straight to the throats. The dead they controlled fell like puppets with their strings severed - and did not rise again. Elias! On your nine! Arthur warned as he watched three more of them rushed at him. His brother grinned in response. With a quick turn of his head, he made an exaggerated bow. "As you can see, I have nothing up my sleeve! For my next trick, I'll need some volunteers from the crowd!" He reached into his jerkin instead - pulled three backup knives, then sent them flying with unerring accuracy - one after another. Each blade embedded itself into an attacker's throat - causing all three to fall in a choking heap. "Ta-da!" Some might question why the Watchers kept Elias on the team, given his tendency to showboat and grandstand, but Arthur understood it was simply his brother's way - and further, it was a mask. His cheerful exterior was an affectation to make his opponents think him reckless and foolish. In truth, Elias had the potential to surpass any of them as a fighter - both in skill and in versatility. He alone didn't have a single weapon of choice. He had many skills. Now it was time to put all those skills to the test. More of the horde was closing in on the brothers - probably seeing them as a greater threat than the Landonian footmen. Unlike his younger twin, Arthur specialized in only two fields: Hand-to-hand combat and spearmanship. In battle, he was the tactician to Nathan's strategist - and he was also the most ruthless and pragmatic of the team. In order to win, he would do anything at all. Still, there was indeed a time and a place for showing off. Time to demonstrate his own skills. With a sharp exhale, Arthur sheathed his spear - drew himself into a boxing stance and waited. A cultist wearing black, hooded robes armed with a knife attacked him first - aiming a downward stab. Moving like greased lightning, Arthur grabbed the underside of his opponent's arm from below, turned it up, then delivered his opposite elbow to strike at the cultist's chest, just beside the heart. He finished the combo by lifting his left leg and stomping hard on the cultist's knee, kicking it out.* His opponent fell, hard to the ground, clutching his chest in pain - his breathing coming in short, desperate gasps. "Wha-what did you... do to me?" He wheezed. "I collapsed your lung. Good luck casting spells without breathing properly." Arthur cracked his neck, watching with satisfaction as the other cultists formed up on him. Also unlike his brother, Arthur never killed living opponents. Crippling and maiming them, sure, but never kill. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ *Six-grand opening, elbow up-thrust.

I think I may just take up your offer there - have Nathan command the defenders. I'll switch between the two groups with him as acting strategist. They'll provide the trump card the living forces need to beat the dead back in individual fights. Together, I think they'll provide enough leverage to turn this battle around.

Mmm. Tasty bacon. But you wish, Die. The dead will fall before my swords and spears. Next post will be soon. The Morn brothers will show off.

I’m going to post again later today. It’s been a hectic weekend: Good news is that I should have no problem making weight limit. The Watchers are kicking some rotting ass. And as I told Die, by the time I’m done, there’s going to be nothing left of that horde. Then, after, I’ll share that gift with the other armies.