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EpicRome23

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About EpicRome23

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    The Last True Knight
  • Birthday November 9

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    Tellius
  • Interests
    Reading, writing, purging heretics, video games (Strategy and/or RPG all the way, especially Fire Emblem.) large flying and fire-breathing lizards, history, necromancy, obtaining unlimited power, and conquering the world. That's all the important stuff. What do you mean, 'one of these is not like the others?'
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    Devoted Yalortian

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  1. Cerik chattered with the bartender, finishing off his food and drinks in the conversation's lulls. The occasional innuendo directed toward her slipped from the mouth of the knight, likely due to the influence of alcohol, but the bartender had heard it all before and simply ignored them. After a few hours, the knight left a tip on the bar and started making his way out of the tavern, going to check on the enchanter's progress. The unconscious drunkard was now conscious, and glared at Cerik as passed. As he got close to the door, the man charged toward him. Pivoting on his heel, the knight grabbed the man by the throat, hoisted him into the air, and then forcefully threw him for the window. There was the sound of shattering glass and then a loud THUMP, followed by the sound of a slamming door. He was wary on the way back to the enchanter's shop, but nothing of interest occurred, and a sigh of relief was let out as he entered the building. The bells on the door jingled, and the enchanter came up to the counter and nodded at the knight. "Ah, just in time. Let's give you the armor first, then the weapons, then you take the bolts and our business will be concluded." Cerik nodded in agreement, and starting putting his armor back on as the enchanter handed the pieces over to him. The familiar weight of the armor brought him a measure of comfort, it had grown to be almost like a second skin for him. Next, Farcutter and Windpiercer were returned to their proper places. The knight was once more fully armed and armored. It was the sort of feeling you didn't know you missed until you were missing it. Finally, he took up the bundle of bolts from the enchanter into his arms. "Alright, there's that. So, do I just go into Skyward and say I want a reservation? And who is the best guide around here?" "For Skyward, that's exactly what you do. They'll handle the rest. As for a guide... I heartily recommend 'ole Daniel. He's as honest as they come, and relatively cheap too. Boat comes included, if I recall right. You can trust him to watch over anything you aren't bringing underwater." "Thank you. If I find what I'm looking for, I'll come back and tell you the good news." The enchanter smiled and turned to organize the shelves, and Cerik left. A reservation, then a guide with his boat. The search would begin right after those tasks were completed.
  2. Mmm, I'm going to have to ask to be skipped this round.
  3. His work done, the Shadow King retreated into Gormaric's mind, continuing to ponder what he had gleaned from the thoughts of Remissio. The dark knight looked around, and then started making his way toward the breach in the wall, seeing nowhere else where he would be of particular use. Once there, he saw several people bringing materials to the breach in the wall, preparing it for repairs. Among them were the twin skeletons Troan and Praulian, whose presence was unnerving, but accepted out of necessity. On sighting Gormaric, they turned toward him, clacking their teeth out of confusion as he drew Shadowfang and strode toward them. With one slice, he severed both of their heads from their bodies, and bones and weapons clattered to the ground, along with the materials they were carrying. Hands of shadow moved the material toward the wall's breach while Gormaric reached into his pouch of warp powder and threw some over the skeletons, now turned into piles. Once they had disappeared, he moved over to a large stone and picked it up. As he walked toward the breach, he talked to the person walking near him, carrying another large stone that had been part of the wall previously. "Damned skeletons. They were helpful, but I wasn't going to give them the chance to betray us just as we believed we had won." The other man nodded in agreement. Sticking close to the ebon-clad knight, who carried material with the power of the Inanis as well as physically, they conversed as they worked on repairing the breach in the wall. For someone so intimidating and evil-looking, Gormaric proved to be surprisingly amicable. Ocelia was woken up by the sound of clattering weapons. She sat up slightly, and saw the remains of Troan and Praulian as they were warped to her. She could see that they were already starting to reform into their proper shape. Where had they come from, though? And why were they like this? No answers forthcoming, the elven mage laid back down and closed her eyes. She wasn't quite certain what she would do next, but she did know that she wasn't quite ready to be up and about yet. More rest was what she wanted and needed right now. She also wanted to speak to the black-armored knight, the one who had passed her while she was on the wall and had seemed so familiar, looking similar to the one who appeared in that odd recurring dream of hers. Maybe she could catch him before he left Inns'th, but she wasn't going to search for him quite yet.
  4. EpicRome23 Paroxysm @V1L3 VILLAIN
  5. DON'T YOU BLOODY DARE
  6. Gormaric needs a new evil-looking horse/other mount But nah, he wants a cloak that works like a shield. Protecting attacks from the back, blocking things, etc. Color-wise, something dark, blue or green maybe. Granted, the color thing is minor, he just wants to start moving away from the whole all-black color scheme.
  7. The first group of enemies that Zerand's forces encountered was the monsters that were formerly under his control. He would leave the vanguard to engage them, while the rest would watch and wait. The metallic warriors opened fire on the monsters, and the dracozombie swooped from above and picked up a few of them with its mouth, but all eyes were on the Bullet Golem. The metallic warriors, under Zerand's orders, moved out of the way... and the construct sent a barrage of bullets and projectiles speeding toward the horde, decimating it, causing Zerand to grin. It seemed that Araminta had not been wrong about its capabilities. The metallic warriors rushed forward, their axes finishing off what remained of the horde. Step one was successfully executed. Step two was a bit more difficult, and only a little more complex than the first: Seek and eliminate what remained of the monstrous hordes, meeting up with the rest of the metallic warriors along the way. Although drawing out the Demon Lord was the main objective, everything they could take out beforehand would be something they didn't have to face in addition to the fearsome being. For this step, the vanguard would be relegated to flanking maneuvers, leaving the drone forces with the brunt of the fighting. The drones started their advance, soon encountering another horde of monsters, much larger than the previous. If they were destroyed, chances were that there would be nothing more than scattered groups of monsters that could simply be hunted down and destroyed one by one. Zerand ordered the drones to charge. The vanguard split into two groups: Three metallic warriors following the Bullet Golem, and the remaining four accompanying the dracozombie. Zerand overlooked the battle for a few moments, then told Araminta to stay put while he charged into the fray. He leaped over a drone swordfighting a skeleton and swung Willbreaker downwards, burying it into the head of some spider-like creature. It had been too long since he had seen action, and he wasn't going to spend the whole time he was here directing from the back. He grinned as he pulled the axe back out and looked for another monster to fight. The battle was like an evenly matched tug-of-war, one side seeming to gain the advantage for a short time, only to be brought back down the others. This continued for a short time... until the rest of the metallic warriors arrived. 33 of them, opening fire on the monsters at the rear of the battle. After they had gone through a full clip, they charged forwards, their axes swinging in murderous arcs through the air. This, combined with a push from Zerand's force, broke what was left of the horde's cohesiveness, leaving the separated and staggered groups to be surrounded and cut down. As that bloody work of step two came to its close, and the Bullet Golem moved around consuming the drones too mangled to restore to functionality, the ground trembled, and the sound of heavy footsteps reverberated throughout the area. Zerand issued an order from his mind, and the metallic warriors formed ranks behind him as the dracozombie circled above. The Bullet Golem, under Araminta's control, took position in front of Zerand and the metallic warriors. The drone forces would hang back until or unless they were needed. The Demon Lord was coming. Facing him was the man who had once been a conqueror. Only one of them would leave here alive.
  8. Out of the corner of his eye, Gormaric could see the prisoners making some sort of attempt at escaping. He made a gesture with his right hand as he continued to chant. The Hellmaulers each brought a single finger down upon the tops of the prisoner's heads, rendering them unconscious. The dark energy spiraling up the center monument was starting to coalesce above it, forming the beginning vestiges of a portal. The ebon-clad knight could only wonder why all these rituals had to be so intricate and time-consuming. Were they all made by some disgruntled sorcerer far in the past who wanted to mess with future generations? If so, they were probably rolling on the ground and laughing every time somebody performed one of them. But it wasn't like he had any other choice. This was the only path to his freedom, morality and future consequences be damned. If anybody or anything tried to interfere, he would do all within his power to inflict a swift and brutal death upon them. He hadn't spent over 5 damned centuries gathering souls for the Shadow King's restoration to have everything fall apart right at the conclusion. Neque would never let him hear the end of it, and that was only the very least of what he would have to endure. No, he would die before he saw this ritual fail. Meanwhile, as 'Suzana' approached the altar, one of the Warpgolems noticed her approach from its sentry position. It raised one arm and sent out a brief flash of light, the pre-arranged signal indicating an approaching intruder. Once that had it been sent, its arm lowered, and it waited for the intruder to get closer. Once she had done so, the Warpgolem focused its energy, and then appeared in front of her 5 seconds later. Assuming her to be taken by surprise, it swung its blade arm with the intent of decapitation.
  9. The gauntleted hand of the Exarch opened up the trapdoor, and his helmed head followed after, to ascertain the situation. It... didn't look good. The ballistae were all either destroyed or about to be, the roof's defenders were either dead or separated from the others, and the living cloud above didn't seem to have diminished at all. But he was here to change that. He ascended fully, then turned around to offer a hand to any of those following him who needed it, ready to react if one or more of the riders above wished to take a literal stab at him. None did so, as they were primarily focused on finishing off the ballistae. Once everybody was on the roof, the Exarch would nod at the mages. The mages would interlock arms and start chanting in some arcane language, while the Exarch would take a position to defend them. Meanwhile, the roof's scattered defenders noticed the new arrivals, most importantly the Exarch himself. A renewed hope flowed through them all, reviving their tired spirits and making them fight with greater ferocity. Dispatching their current assailants, they broke from their positions and made their way towards the newcomers, with shouts of "For Isore!" and "To the Exarch!". Not all of them would make it, as the diving riders above would take their toll, but those that did would join in the defense of the mages. Dark clouds formed above the cloud of wyverns, the wind was starting to pick up, and the enemy seemed determined to put an end to the Exarch. Madon fought with the strength of ten men, and besides him, other defenders stood, deflecting those seeking to flank the towering man clad in dark green and gold armor. There was an unspoken understanding: every blow aimed at them was one diverted from the occupied and vulnerable mages. With this in mind, they fought as if their very lives depended on it. Perhaps they actually did. Attrition ate at the defenders, though those that remained simply drew closer together to leave no gaps in the living wall formed around the mages. Blood covered Madon's armor, but he was the immovable object to the unstoppable force of the wyvern riders above. It was almost automated: Arcane Piercer would shoot toward a diving rider, bite deep into either them or their mount, and be retracted via the attached chain to rinse and repeat. Their efforts were about to pay off. A rider preparing to swoop down toward the Exarch was struck by a lightning bolt, frying him in his armor, and more continued to shoot out from the dark clouds above. Also, the winds now blew fiercely, enough to buffet around the wyverns. Madon grinned... and then collapsed to his knees. He turned his head, looking at the mages to thank them. All four of them lay on the ground, lifeless. He blinked. They had given their own lives to see this spell completed far faster than it normally would have been, it seemed. He looked toward the other defenders, speaking loudly to be heard over the wind. "We... we've done enough here. Retreat to the throne room, through the trapdoor. Last one through, lock it behind you." "Don't worry about that, Exarch. I'll stay behind, and keep them from getting in." The first response to the Exarch came from the archer with the silver bow, the one that he had sent up earlier to defend the prototype ballista. Madon briefly wondered why he hadn't seen her when he first came up, but concluded she had probably been out of sight behind a ballista or something. He didn't want to leave her to die, but something in her tone suggested to him that she had some sort of escape plan. He nodded towards her, and gestured for the others to start making their way down the ladder. He then faced toward the two that had accompanied him from the throne room. "Could you help me down there? I'm not sure if I'd be able to make it alone."
  10. Robbie Rotten Ayumi EpicRome23 Reinholdt sorainvoked @jaistlyn
  11. Cerik- (If Stormfire is alive): "Stormfire... I'm afraid... this is... where the road ends." (If Stormfire is dead):"Forgive me... I could not uphold... my oaths..." Gormaric- "Pah. Celebrate... while you can. The Shadow King's retribution... is swift and terrible." Serane- "Oh... can't talk myself... out of this one... Aldren, I'm coming soon..." Alpha:"I... can only hope... that death brings me home." Ocelia:"N-no... I still don't remember... my past..." Zerand:"How? How did you... I had the... high ground!" Exarch:"Not now... Isore still remains... unavenged... Why can't I... move?"
  12. Serane could only shake her head at the argument between Dryston and their guides. Didn't they have something better to do than bickering? She brushed past them and approached the paladin, Ujimar, who she gave one of her best smiles. All in all, combat was really secondary to the rest of her skills. Why would she fight herself if she could get those much stronger and bulkier to fight for her? "Unfortunately, we haven't seen any of your 'accomplices', but we're willing to help you look for them. Your aid will be greatly appreciated." Not even waiting on his response, she whirled around to face Dryston and their guides, a stern look on her face. "And you! Will you just shut up and continue on? We don't have time to waste standing around and bickering." With a huff, she impatiently tapped her foot. She was going to make them listen to her, whether they liked it or not.
  13. As Cerik entered through the door to The Laughing Cat, he felt oddly naked without his weapons or armor. At least he still had that dagger he used to cut meat, and with his physique, few would be brave enough to mess with him anyways. He garnered the attention of the regulars for a few moments before they looked away with dismissive grunts. Just another adventurer here for a drink and maybe food. Nothing out of the ordinary, except maybe his size. The knight approached the bar, and the bartender looked at up at him as he sat down. The knight gave a tired grin. "Your strongest ale and something to eat, please." The bartender nodded as Cerik set two gold coins on the counter. She took them and walked off. As she did so, the knight turned toward and listened in on a particularly loud and boisterous conversation those two traits mostly provided by a man standing on his chair. "So then I was all like, 'Yeah, you may be the bane of travelers, but anybody can rob a bunch of cowardly fat merchants and call themselves that.' He raises an eyebrow and starts to speak, so I pull out my warhammer and smash the bastard's head in. His lackeys try to surround and stab me, but I have the strength of a giant and I swipe them all aside! Speaking of giants... you know that fellow who walked in a bit ago? I bet you that his father was a giant! And you know what? His mother was too ugly to sleep with anyone else!" Cerik realized that the man was talking about him, and he slammed his fist into the bar before getting up and approaching him. The man didn't notice him until the knight stood next to him. His face went from smug to somewhat scared as Cerik lifted his foot... and then kicked the chair out from under the man. The knight stepped forward and put a boot on the man's chest before looking down at him. "Now, what was that you said about my mother?" "I said... I said that your mother was an ugly harlot, you gargantuan oaf!" Cerik grimaced and grabbed the chair he had kicked moments ago. The man only had time to form his mouth into a 'o' of surprise as the knight smashed the chair into his face, knocking him unconscious and sending splinters flying. He looked toward the others, rage evident in his eyes. "Would anybody else like to say anything?" The patrons who had been around the man shook their heads, and Cerik returned to his seat. The bartender returned with his food and ale, raising an eyebrow at the remnants of the scene, but deciding not to comment. The knight, in turn, ate and drank in silence. The regulars whispered about him, this time impressed with his skill and swiftness. They all agreed that the man had deserved it.
  14. EpicRome23 Paroxysm @V1L3 VILLAIN