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dread it, run from it, destiny arrives all the same

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PARAGON OF ABSURDITY


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It was a rare thing for her to be out in the open and rarer still for her to be fighting in a fucking battle. When was the last time since she was in a war of this scale?

Too fucking long. Goddammit!

Why was she here? What is her purpose now? Is it Lilith? The poor people of Nu Martyr? For her own future? Whatever the answers to such questions may be, the Paragon doesn't give a fuck! Her head does not have enough brain cells to ponder upon such pointless questions nor is she smart enough to even understand shit!

What she does know is that she just saw an excessively large winged lizard a couple of meters ahead of her. 

Imma kill it! Fucking lizards should not be flying like they're big shit!

Enrage, the Paragon soars into the sky, lightning sparks trailing her slender figure.

Her target?

The dragon.

As long as I'm around no fucking lizard have the right to fly!


 

 

Edited by Thotification

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~April Fools Post~


Nu Delo...

Little did anyone know that another menace to order and sanity was also in the city this day, lurking in the shadows, picking off citizen, defender and attacker alike. Dressed in not but a cheap, black robe and wielding a neon green, plastic wand, the young man with emo-hair combed over his eyes was having the time of his life. You see, it was his life's goal to impose his crazed ideals of chaos and ridiculousness upon the citizens of this world, especially those who took themselves oh so seriously. A massive war filled with death and destruction like this, while villains were raging and giving rambling monologues, and while heroes were giving dramatic speeches and being all overly goody-too-shoes, was a prime draw for a man such as he. All these folks who thought themselves so powerful, so important, so... serious... 

But why so serious?

Perhaps people would ask themselves that soon, or maybe they'd just get mad, either way was fine for wizarding punk who called himself "The Cursor". So long as he could troll the world in the most absurd and annoying ways possible, he would be satisfied. Among his first victims were fleeing civilians in the outskirts of Nu Delo, but soon he spotted Paragons emerging from the city, shooting down stray survivors with their various magic. One such Paragon was Shane Haydes, who was planning on entering the next town of Parrish on foot, rather than announce his arrival to all the defenders using the Cult's smoke teleportation technique. Better to arrive more stealthy, or so he planned. When the strange fellow dressed in black jumped out from behind a tree in front of him, Shane thought for a moment that it was a joke.

"AHA! It is I! The mighty Cursor! Bane of the adventurer, the hero and the villain alike! Vexer of the--"

"Buddy, are you for real?" Shane interrupted the attempted dramatic introduction.

"Yes, of course I am for real! As you shall now see! AHA!"

Before Shane could react, the Cursor had whipped out his pathetic toy wand, firing a bolt of greenish energy that struck the Paragon of Fire square in the chest. One minute, Shane was facing the man, the next... he was looking back at Nu Delo?

"Ehhh?"

It took him a minute to figure it out, but he soon realized his entire head was on backward... somehow.

"What the hell did you do to me!?"

"Aw, don't take it so serious, friend. You're one of the lucky ones today! Ta ta, now!" the Cursor cackled, before diving behind a tree.

By the time Shane got turned around to try and find the guy, he was already gone. 


Apolypse...

Chaos travels fast, and doesn't always make a lot of sense in how it gets around. Not long after having left his mark on the outskirts of Nu Delo, the Cursor appeared once more, this time on the opposite side Nu Martyr, in the slowly crumbling city of Apolypse. Here he came across a sight that was just begging for his attention. A standoff between a gun-totting woman, two mysterious humans, and a dragon. Oh, and there appeared to be a fifth individual, a sparkling psychopath hell-bent on attacking the dragon. She would be first.

"AHA!"

An impressively well aimed blast impacted the Paragon of Absurdity midair, though the Cursor didn't wait to see the effect before he had already switched attention to the others.

"IT IS I! The CURSOR! Bane of adventurers, heroes, villains and all other manner of important folk!"

Without further hesitation, he began hurling curses at the others in the party, starting with the woman with the gun (because those people are dangerous), then the two she was pointing it at, then finally at the dragon splattered on the ground beyond them. 

"Ah ha ha ha ha! Enjoy!" he cackled, before diving through a nearby building window (shattering it) and vanishing from sight.


Results (d4 for length, due to slow thread):

Spoiler

Shane - Head on backward for 2 rounds

Sera - Sex-changed for 1 round

Nikki - Will obey any command given for 1 round

Rami - Blow up like a balloon and float away for 3 rounds

Ephah - Hallucinations for 1 round

Arashi - Transformed into vegetable or fruit for 1 round

@Thotification @vielle @Metty 

//(This was discussed in Discord, for full disclosure.)//

Edited by Tyler

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@Sir Nathaniel

 

 

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_______________________________________________

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Map

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Landonia

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House Belmore

Spoiler

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Music

Spoiler

Sound Presence: OOC

 

 

The Lord of Steelsward

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Gerold’s gauntlets were resting upon the parapet as he gazed out from one of the gatehouse’s turrets. The morning had sunken into dusk in seconds. Dark clouds strangled the sky and the sunlight had been reduced to slivers creeping through the shadowed canopy. A black tide to blot out the sun. Hungary had experienced the same ordeal, right before an army of shadows set the city on fire, flayed the living and walked away with what was dead. Landonia could not suffer the same fate. Gerold's honor prevented him from letting Landonia fall. His spyglass moved over the horde. Meat to the grinder. Just a little closer. He heard footsteps and turned to receive Sir Nathaniel, a foreign man among a number.

_________________

[On 3/26/2019 at 4:53 PM, Sir Nathaniel]

[Sir Nathaniel Jameson]

“Greetings, Lord Gerold. I am Sir Nathaniel Jameson of Iselyr, at your service. These men are my knights, the Watchers. We are here to offer our services to your defense. My men are few in number, but our expertise is in combating any demonic threat, living or otherwise. How best may we be of assistance?”
_________________

“Good to have you.” Gerold looked at every man and crossed a fist over his chest. “All of you. I’ll take quality over quantity. Your quality happens to be slaying enemies like ours. Landonia welcomes you and any help that you can provide us.” He nodded toward the bridge. “They’re almost in range of our artillery. Arrows will follow. As many spells as anyone knows how to cast them.” He looked at Nathaniel. “I’ll let you decide where best to station your men, as long as it’s on the front line.”

 

There was a sternness to Gerold’s voice and a rigid look on his face and both were intentional. He trusted Landonian abilities first and foremost, especially when it came to defending their own home, but if these Watchers from Genesaris managed to prove themselves then they would improve his opinion on outsiders in general.

 

Landonia had few dealings with the rest of the islanders of Landon, fewer dealings with others in Renovatio and fewest dealings with the rest of Valucre. It was a common enough sentiment to become a common enough saying. The fact was that, ultimately, Landonia was on its own. It had been from the start and it would be to the end. Noble. Common. Knight. Farmer. It doesn’t matter anymore. We are all Landonian every day. And today we are all soldiers defending our lands.

 

Gerold nodded at the Watchers, gesturing that it was time, and headed back from the turret. The winds of strength and honor propelled Lord Belmore across the rampart, his enemy behind him and his countrymen standing before him. The undead horde that was at his back was marching toward an army of living endurance and Landonian steel. And we shall give it to them in blades.

 

“Landonians! Brothers! Sisters! An army of the dead marches on our city! Our land! They would see your homes burned and your people butchered! From the front line to the trebuchet, I can see the fear in your eyes that keeps my own open! It is a terrifying threat that we face! But we are the vanguard! We are the shield and we are the sword! Remember who you are, guardians of Landonia! Stand with me! Fight until you can no longer stand! Then lay at rest knowing that you stood!

 

Gerold crushed air into a fist as though he were gripping a hilt, arm held high. A sea of armor waved beneath him, the soldiers of Landonia cheering themselves on and roaring their resolve out to their commander. There was no doubt in their voices. He hoped that they were loud enough to let the ears of even the dead hear the courage of their enemy. They would soon be faced with it.

 

Music

 

Spoiler

Sound Presence: OOC

 

 

Just outside the gate, the horde was halfway across the rope bridge, halfway to Landonia. Able to fit three men abreast or two horses, the great Bridge of Realms had long served a purpose to its namesake: bridge the realm of Landonia with the realms of Landon and beyond. Gerold was among the privileged few who would sometimes walk the halfway mark to escape the city. Now, with minions of death heading toward Landonia, escape was no longer a possibility. Gerold had reminded a man of another thought that no blade could cut the Bridge of Realms. No, we need every blade fighting the enemies of every realm.

 

“Ballistas!” Gerold called from the rampart above the gate. "Fire!" His command was repeated all the way to the triggers. Mounted on the two turrets flanking the gate and further atop walls were rows of ballistas. Their great bows were released as bolts as tall as a man were launched forth. All at once, bodies upon the bridge went flying either side, sections of the horde splitting apart as a single bolt tore through a line of targets to impale even more. Others tumbled from the bridge due to the impact amid the dense crowd.

 

“Reload!” The ballistas were fitted with another bolt in moments. “Fire!” Gerold’s arm went down. Later, a third. It was on the fourth time that the horde had suddenly stopped moving. Gerold held up his hand during a reload and made sure that his command was passed. “Hold fire! Hold fire!He would entertain this curiosity. Neither the figure at the front of the horde, a man armored in red from head to toe, nor his undead minions at his back were moving. Gerold’s spyglass went from him to the rest. They moved. Ranks split apart as a number of them moved to the flanks, forming a wall on either side of the bridge. Gerold wondered what they were up to. It wouldn’t save them. Then his jaw opened for a silent gasp.

 

“It can’t be…”

 

Commander Landers had been following with his own spyglass beside him. “My lord...they’re not dead…”

 

These ones were not. Shackled and confused against the eerie order of the undead army, those who had suddenly been shifted to the sides of the bridge displayed all the signs of terrified prisoners. Landoners. My gods. How many have we already killed?

 

“My lord, they’re still advancing. Should we—”

 

“We are not going to fire on our own countrymen, Commander.” Gerold removed his spyglass. “I will hang the man who does not hold his fire. That’s an order.”

 

There was not a word. Just a nod of iron loyalty as Lanfrey went about personally assuring his lord’s command. I will not fire on our own people. I will not. The nagging reality that Gerold could have already done so with those first few volleys was acid in his mouth. That settled it then. The ballistas would hold. The arrows would hold. The captives would hold for as long as their captors did not toss them over the bridge. What of spells? They weren’t his area of expertise. But they were someone else’s. So Gerold sent a messenger for Sir Nathaniel.

 

“It cannot be helped.” Gerold added after explaining the situation to the leader of the Watchers. “Those are live Landoners marching in that horde. I want to keep them that way for as long as I can. The question is what can you do before they reach our gate? What abilities of yours might help in a situation like ours, sir knight?”

 

Edited by Die Shize

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Defenders - Landonia.

 

 “My men and I can provide firepower or can aid in any rescue mission.” Was Nathan’s reply. “Our specialty lies in shock troop tactics: Overwhelming the enemy with rapid assault and movement. Individually, we each wield unique powers. My apprentice, Max can use heat and flame. Gale has power over all water; the Morn twins are psychic and I can generate and command lightning.” 

He paused a moment to let his words sink in. No doubt the Lord was used to commanding armies as opposed to individual fighters. Therein might lie their best option to get right into the fighting. 

“I have a plan. With your leave, Lord, my men and I will drive a wedge through the horde’s flanks. If we can lure the thralls away from the bridge, a detachment of your forces might be able to break through their lines in the center and reach the citizens. Failing that, we might at least still buy time that more defense be prepared.” 

No doubt the Landonians were wary of strangers in their city, despite their Lord’s courtesy. The loss of a few fighters might not bother them too much, but if successful, it would go a long way to show what unity could accomplish in a time of crisis. 

 

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attackers: samael, ephah, rami | city of apolypse
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Power is intoxicating. It’s why she’s a Paragon at all, really.

Feeling every movement, every minute tremble and quiver of limbs and joints and veins pushing blood faster through its innards, Ephah raises her hands as she impedes the mobility of the two creatures in her grasp. The woman with her gun curses as she is unable to pull the trigger of her weapon; the dragon shifts to the edge of the building and falls like a stone to the ground, a lifeless statue at the mercy of her puppet strings. Perhaps they’re beginning to realize just what exactly is happening to their bodies, but it is no matter: she has them exactly where she wants them.

Rami, to her chagrin, shatters that veneer of stoic impenetrability by laughing loud and clear, mirth twinkling in his eyes, infinitely amused by the proceedings. Trust him to leave her all the work and opt to be a spectator in this scenario.

And then: it all happens rather quickly.

"IT IS I! The CURSOR! Bane of adventurers, heroes, villains and all other manner of important folk!"

Before she has time to react, to force her way into this newcomer’s marrow and cease this madness, the world shifts, unravels before her very eyes in an unsteady blanket of shimmering seas, restless waves threatening the stable foundations of reality that hold together.

The ground begins to bubble like a wretched bog puddle, which shouldn’t be possible but suddenly is.

Ephah takes a horrified step back. Oh gods.

 

Rami is not having the time of his life, recently.

There is something very wrong in his body. He can feel it. The damned sorcerer or whoever that peculiar man is had all blasted them with—something. Something strange. Something arcane. Hell, why didn’t Samael just bring them with him?

Beside him, Ephah cries out, the unshakeable turned shakeable, the stoic shattered on the altar of unpredictability. Rami turns towards her, wanting to help with whatever has suddenly made her lose her composure, and that’s when he feels it: his limbs are growing, as if air is being steadily pumped straight into his veins, slowly filling him up like a balloon.

“Ah,” he yells, like a particularly shrill baby bird falling out of its nest, but also not quite like aforementioned baby bird in that he feels the sensation of slowly being lifted off the ground,  “help me, Ephah, somebody, please!”

 

@Tyler @Metty @Thotification

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@Sir Nathaniel

 

 

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_______________________________________________

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Map

Spoiler

9

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Landonia

Spoiler

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1DyCmlP.jpg

House Belmore

Spoiler

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Music

Spoiler

Sound Presence: OOC

 

The Lord of Steelsward

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Gerold watched the enemy as they paced across the bridge with all the leisure in the world. They were shadows beneath the dark clouds that swarmed the skies, blanketing Landon in a deep grey as the sunlight was all but strangled out. A few dying rays glimmered upon the edge of Landonia, there where her defenders had assembled on the fields atop Herald Falls. The river emptied out beneath the gate and walls that spanned the edges of the isle above a floating island, the water at the crossing shallow enough for both boot and hoof.

 

Uniting their forces, House Belmore of Steelsward and House Arnford of Orchard Hall had been given the privilege and the responsibility of serving as Landonia’s vanguard. Lord Gerold Belmore and Lord Stelius Arnford were nobles who commanded their lands as much as they were generals who commanded their armies. Gerold thought about his counterpart as he listened to Sir Nathaniel speak to the abilities of the Watchers. Hold the reins, old friend. The next time we get off our horses you’ll be treating me to a feast at your hall. Stelius had the bulk of mounted troops and knights in reserve, ready to gallop and charge in when the time was right. Landonia needed the cavalry and also the Watchers.

 

Gazing up at the skies, a tiny raindrop landed on Gerold’s cheek.  The storm will follow. His eyes were back on the horde as he considered Sir Nathaniel’s request. This is a brave man. “It’s a tempting offer, but I can’t risk sending even a few men outside that gate. I’d say the red monster is expecting such a plan. Then he’ll slit our people’s throats the moment we close in.” They’re dead anyway. “Fire. Water. Lightning. Let’s turn all of nature against our enemy.”

 

Gerold took a deep sigh. Onward, the army of the dead marched. They couldn’t have been more than a quarter of the way to the gate by then. Ballista bolts could have ripped through rows, arrows to follow, deadly spells to soar beside them. No. I will not fire on our own people. Gerold bid Nathaniel to follow as he descended the rampart to join the ranks stationed just before the gate. He looked upon the crowd, studying faces with the beating of his heart.

 

“Hold the field! Hold the gate! Hold the door! If our enemy gets through, they are through! Let’s end them before they get that far!”

 

Just then something exploded behind Gerold. He spun to see a massive cloud enshroud the gatehouse and portions of the walls flanking it. Green smoke covered the stone as well as every soul standing within the fog. It wrapped its edges just in front of the armored masses gathered behind the walls, with Gerold’s own face just feet away from the green enigma that had descended upon the gate.

 

Everyone was silent as they watched in all of awe and apprehension. Gerold’s hand squeezed the hilt of his sword as it quietly sung from its scabbard, his kite shield held close to his breast. In a moment, shrills and cries escaped from the strange fog, heard anywhere from atop a wall or turret to what could only have been at the gate itself. One voice sang out in pain and horror one moment to be replaced by another. It was a macabre symphony of dying screams and it sent shivers across Gerold’s skin. His was a dread beside itself at the revelation that the enemy had just breached the defense. They’re on the walls. They’re at the gate. They’re through.

 

All was quiet once more, save for the rapid breathing of stalwart bastions standing between the ghastly horde and all of Landonia. Then he heard the footsteps before he roared. “LANDONIA!” Out of the fog, the enemy attacked, leaping upon the defenders. Something struck Gerold’s shield before he even saw the rotting face coming out of the green smoke. His reaction was swift, longsword swinging for the dead thing’s neck. The headless creature was as unresponsive as a corpse should have been. Gerold kicked it away and put his newfound knowledge to work. He cut into the assaulting army beside his brothers and sisters, his sword and shield as united as each and every one of their hearts.

 

Seconds later and the red monster that led the legions of death emerged from the fog. He stuck out like a sore thumb with his red armor. His curved blade tore across the barricade, slaying more opponents than Gerold could count in the glancing moments as his sword disengaged from his own opponent’s. He slashed the cultist across the torso in time to spot the beast in red armor as green light glimmered from his sword to tear lightning through a column of defenders. Afterward, the captain of death became a relentless killing machine, besting challengers left and right.

 

Gerold slew another foe, saving a man from getting skewered. The soldier thanked his general before a bolt drove through his head. Gerold spun to see that the enemy had set up a firing line. The defenders moved to target it while their general followed the discovery. The enemy was gaining a foothold. More and more living cultists and undead thralls fell before Gerold’s sword as he fought to stave off the invasion.

Edited by Die Shize

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Defenders- Landonia 

(Nathan’s theme)

Though he trusted the Lord’s judgment in regards to the defense of his city, Nathan had every confidence in his team’s ability, and when his offer was declined he was inwardly seething. Innocents were being lost due to desperation and fear. 

There was no time to debate. The horde had arrived, and the time for action was now. Raising his sword, he followed Gerold, his knights in tow to the front line. The gate may have been lost, but the paladin knew that no wall could compare to the strength of the men guarding it. 

Before him, Gerold and his men went to work, slashing and downing foes like wheat before a scythe. The Watchers took this as cue to engage the enemy in individual combats; a familiar scene of swords and spears cutting down one opponent after another. As per usual, Nathan was at the forefront, his sword reaping a bloody tally with every swing. 

Just as he went into the thick of it, he barked his orders. 

“Arrow formation! I scatter them in the front, Max and Gale take the left. Arthur, Elias take the right!” 

And with that, he charged. 

In ordinary battle, Nathan was calm, collected and rarely gave in to his anger, but his swings now were feral and wild; still controlled, but ferocious enough that one might think them akin to a Tiger swiping his claws. Every strike flickered faster and more powerfully than other men’s blows; each severed a corpse’s head or cleanly sliced them in two at the waist. 

When the monster in red appeared, Nathan’s eyes narrowed in resolve. 

“Face me, wretched creature!” He bellowed his challenge. “For Iselyr!” 

He rushed forward, carried onward by his powerful legs, then leaped, both hands on his sword. Lightning crackled and sparked about the blade as he willed a storm into existence. Thunder clapped as he brought it down with all his strength, a crater formed on impact beneath his feet and a current of electricity released into every opponent in range. 

———————————-

Of all the Watchers, Max was the most eager to get into the action: When the time came, he was almost laughing as he threw himself into the fight. His own swords were tearing through foes or melted their bodies like wax. The footmen in the Landonian troops gave him a wide berth at the sight of his rippling aura. Though he gave off intense heat, any humans caught in its glow would find themselves unburned. His particular brand of Magic was unique in that he commanded holy fire. Only those with wicked intentions would be affected. 

Any undead he came into contact with however were consumed by it utterly; only fading screeches remained of those hit, their forms disintegrating into black ash. 

At one point he found himself standing back-to-back with the Fairy Knight in the middle of a mob of creatures. Gale had summoned a pair of water whips around his arms and ducked and wove about with the speed and elegance of an ice skater. 

In contrast, Max, being the physically strongest of the team simply bashing skulls or sent corpses flying with single blows. 

“Gale!” He called over his shoulder. “A contest! Whoever kills the most is the better fighter!” 

Gale shot him a winning grin. “You’re on! I’m on seventeen!”

“Twenty!” Max called back. Truthfully he wasn’t sure how many he had killed, he simply wanted to annoy Gale. 

“I’ll have no pretty boy outscoring me!” Gale called back. 

With that, both went right back into the fray; hacking and slicing corpses apart, left and right.

Edited by Sir Nathaniel

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@Sir Nathaniel

 

 

a390d3abedfe0c9e2529d9217b872477.png

_______________________________________________

d00fef5c53ee4e21c4814a796120fc18.png

 

03f71ce7624083279efb389e9803f764.png

 

Map

Spoiler

9

ufBiOL6.png?1

Landonia

Spoiler

FVb4sLz.jpg?1

1DyCmlP.jpg

House Belmore

Spoiler

r3xunrN.png

Music

Spoiler

Sound Presence: OOC

 

 

The Lord of Steelsward

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A volley of bolts pelted the Landonian ranks. As soon as the cultists’ fingers were off their triggers and went to work retrieving quills and tampering with bowstrings, a warrior in grey-gold armor approached them. “I always hated crossbows.” Their hooded heads turned to look while life was still behind their eyes. “Take too long to load!” Then he was upon them. His sword cleaved right through the arms of a crossbowman before taking his head off, rounding the blade to drive it through the belly of his brother. In one fell swoop, the firing line had been vanquished. There will be more.

Rounding a mantlet, Gerold stole a moment to assess the progress of the battle. The undead were an endless river. Pockets of control were being seized by the enemy one after the other. But the Landonians were holding their own. He saw the Watchers fight as one-man armies, Sir Nathaniel leaping into the horde.

When he landed, cultists of all forms were electrocuted or sent flying from the shockwave. The red swordsman included. Gerold watched him soar to crash into a battle line just down from the mantlet. The Landonian stepped into view. The monster rose. The face on the back of its helmet looked frozen in terror.

“You!” The Lord of Steelsward called across the carnage. “You in the red helm! Shall we settle this with our blades?”

The blood red warrior turned to face his challenger. The face on the front of his helmet was howling in pain. He said nothing as he walked forward, his sword trailing the corpse-ridden earth, blood dripping from the blade. Gerold twisted his hands around his own sword’s hilt and took a deep breath. Patrons protect me. Be my sword and shield. By the time he exhaled, the monster was upon him.

Gerold blocked the first blow, his shield knocking his opponent’s curved blade aside and opening the chest up. He seized the moment and thrust with truth. His opponent twisted away from the stab, rebounding his sword in an instant. Gerold raised his shield just in time. He’s quick. Too quick. What followed was a brutal balance of blows. Gerold attacked and blocked at once. His adversary parried and redirected. Their duel became a bubble in a sea of battle.

Edited by Die Shize

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~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. 

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@Sir Nathaniel

 

 

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_______________________________________________

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Map

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Landonia

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House Belmore

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The Lord of Steelsward

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Once again, blade met shield. The red warrior’s sword gleamed emerald as it bounced off of Gerold’s kite shield. Were it not so embalmed, the blade’s tip just might have snapped off against Landonian steel. The cultist’s sword was back up. It clashed against the shield with apparent purpose. He slashed right at it! The green energy emanating from the curved blade sparked against the surface of the shield, glowing a golden barrier that overtook it. Then the red warrior removed his weapon just as surely. Wallace suddenly understood. He knows. He’s good. Oh well. No sense in holding back anymore!

 

Lord Belmore lunged forward. This time it was the tip of his own sword that drove toward the enemy, who had expected the attack. His Landonian rival was banking on it. The red swordsman was skilled, a proven menace this early in, but he was too confident in his own speed. As the red warrior missed the stab, Gerold rocketed his shield right into the bloody armor now twisted toward it. An echo of thunder emanated from the collision with a bright yellow light. The center of the shield burned white behind a cone of gold.

 

Gerold crouched low and braced himself behind his shield. His opponent was not so fortunate. The red warrior flew backwards as soon as the shield slammed into his chest. Then he got up and came walking. His sword came down one way before the other, passing the shield and clashing against Gerold’s. The Lord of Steelsward was already feet behind himself when he realized that his opponent was actually pushing him back. The monster became a whirlwind of slices and chops, stabbing just often enough to keep the target off guard. He’s too quick!

 

The red swordsman twirled from one spot to another like a dancer, attacking from the front, the left, the right. Gerold blocked in time to avoid his arm being severed in two, the blade slicing through a pool of blood across his muscle. He grunted and bit back the pain as he fended off the blows. Wait for it!

 

There! As the red warrior swung his blade for Gerold, he swiped his shield to block it and readied a finishing stab. Just as the curved sword glanced off the shield, green and gold sparks erupted, the power causing the recipient's whole body to spin. Then the warrior in the red helmet was behind Gerold, who tilted his head to the black clouds and roared as something bit his back and came out his front.

 

Everything happened so slowly. The pain was intense, the shock was blinding, his ears were drumming. He knew that something was wrong but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the crowd that fought to kill each other. When he summoned the strength in an instant, his eyes drifted down. A bloodied blade was sticking out between his ribs. He knew who held the sword’s hilt. Too quick. The red warrior had bested him. There all the evidence was, protruding from the Lord of Steelsward’s body. It was giving out. It had given its best. His shield fell to the ground. His sword went with it. Then he dropped to his knees and removed his helmet.

 

He could feel the grip release from the weapon but he faced forward to behold the blade still sticking out of himself. It became an afterthought. The Landonian lifted his visage to behold the crowd. All around him, the world was turning slowly. He knew that the opposite was true. His men were fighting every second to hold back the horde, to purge the plague of the Cult of Power and defend every pebble and every infant of Landonia that ever was or will be.

 

They were his people. His brothers. His sisters. His kinsmen and countrymen. Landonians. How many of them would survive today to live tomorrow? Would his wife? His children? Their children yet to come? As he waited on his knees with his helmet in his hands, Lord Gerold Belmore recalled the notion that your past life flashes before you when you die. He disagreed. What flashed before his eyes were lives that may or may not ever come to be. His own life flashed with them. Not the flowers grown but the ones yet to grow. His body jolted as the blade came out in an instant. Children laughed, the wind screeched and by the time cold, slick steel bit into the back of his neck his eyes were already closed.

Edited by Die Shize

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0a9f61e353ddc7aba9a1b6b030aa6cbb.jpgDONG SERA (Paragon of Absurdity)

Kind funny how the most peculiar things happen to the one who encapsulates the concept of absurdity within the paragons. She was known as the Paragon of Absurdity due to her lack of working brain cells and common sense but even then she never had the idea to play for the other team. Well, not anymore.

Now she's become a new person. A new gender. The advent of the pervert known as the Cursor has left this poor Paragon in a rather undesired state. A state of having a dong.

Now she's become a he. Dong Sera has been born.

How shall this poor Paragon cope up with the recent developments within her new male body? Does she have to go through male puberty now? WIll the advent of Dong Sera overshadow the original magical tranny Middy Ochre? Or is this a new fad that the despicable Cursor wanted to show?

Whatever it is, Dong Sera could not help but land on the ground and hide in a safe corner until the magic goes away. No way in hell will Dong Sera get caught wearing a man's body. The world doesn't need a second Mistress.


"SHISHI" THE MAIDEN RAVENBUSH 

Being a knight-trainee can be quite tiring but never for the Maiden. Working for the Order had been eventful, to say the least, and now she even get to enjoy a full-scale war. Her only concern is that she can sense someone familiar lurking about the Prime's building and the Maiden Ravenbush did not want that kind of rat scuttling about freely. Unfortunately for her, she can't leave the Prime's hall just yet as Tenkai is still busy planning whatever needed to be planned. For now she'll just stick to the walls and wait for someone to call her attention.

I really need to see that bitch of a sister soon. If I ever catch her meddling with these Paragons, I might get a little rough this time.

@Tenkai Matsumoto

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((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.

 

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@Sir Nathaniel

 

 

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_______________________________________________

 

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Map

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Landonia

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Music

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Sound Presence: OOC

 

The Paragon of Dread

Be0qSHc.jpg?1It was like a sea, the way the waves rippled in the wind as the blade tore through the air. Time always seemed to slow down at this moment of life and death as though stuck in a crevice in some cave, far below and forgotten. The hand that held the hilt guided glimmering steel toward bare skin. In a moment a pair of shoulders would be short a head, but the executioner would feel it all happen as a vessel sailing around a black hole—forever. When? Where? Was it before Lilith? Or after? A razor sharp tongue licked the neck of the damned. Khaedal felt his sword cut through bone like butter and come cleaving out with ribbons of blood.

 

The head flew from the Lord of Steelsward, tossed up and away like a broken chicken to become a meal for the morrow’s feast for crows. As the sword sailed onward, maybe time always had been. Khaedal regained control of his katana and observed his fallen foe, the headless corpse slumping over, its scattered skull gazing up at the clouds. The crows are starving. They’ll see the eyes first.

 

His own two peered out from behind the holes of his helmet. Its skinless face was screaming. The hollow face on the back of the helm was shrieking. Beneath his armor, pain and fear wrapped around Khaedal’s naked flesh like sheets of velvet and satin. The throngs of the living and the dead echoed out their anguish and their terror as they clashed. They hacked and stabbed and ripped each other apart. Landonians and Cultists. We are joined together. The blood will wash away. He tilted his head to the clouds and watched as they opened up and birthed streams of rain to cleanse the carnage.

 

The storm ensued. From behind the emerald barrier that embalmed him, the Paragon of Dread served as spectator to the war being waged upon Landonian soil. An armored champion not unlike the headless one fell an enemy to have his own head caved in. A hooded fool in black fell to the ground with his hand reaching toward his watcher before a blade severed his spine. Khaedal spotted a Paragon lieutenant lead a line of elementals to check Landonia’s allies. He watched the latter scatter and scurry. Pebbles in the pond. The knight’s songs never mentioned them. They were flies to swat later. For now, Khaedal had to begin the next phase.

 

Amid the downpour, lightning flashed, thunder cracked and Khaedal’s gauntlets plunged the tip of his katana up toward the raging heavens. Sparks of green crackled across the blade, electricity coiling around the curved steel until a jet of lightning roared from the tip and up toward where it was stabbing. A black titan of a cloud suddenly split and snarled as though angered by the impact. Instants later, black vines twirled across the wailing skies and forked like lightning as they streaked away in opposite directions, whirling and howling.

 

Above two castles nestled upon floating isles that flanked Landonia east and west, shadowed arms choked the necks of the swollen clouds and sliced across their bloated bellies. From maws as black as the edge of space were vomited the herds of the dead. Rows after columns poured from the smoking portals that loomed over greater Landonia. Wisps of black transported their passengers to two small isles and their denizens. Swaths of Cultist troops landed in the fields of two of Landonia’s strongholds before their guardians could blink twice and realize what was happening.

 

Khaedal watched his armies assault from their airborne breaches and move to kill. In the east, the seat of House Ferren, Highmoat. In the west, House Darwell of Coldstone. With no desire to stop, and no will for desire, the warring thralls would assail the two castles and overrun them. Then the Misty Bridges will run us to the gates. Power lingers behind, waiting to be freed.

 

Khaedal’s head jerked aside just in time to catch the blast of light that zeroed in on his widened gaze. Instinct seized his form in a grip sturdier than any magical barrier. He responded in kind. As a stampede of dead cattle thundered across the arena, a spear of lightning fried the Cultists on impact, their charred shadows hazing the bright light as it sped toward its ultimate destination. Already encased in a bubble that glowed green, with lightning wrapped around his blade, Khaedal swung the katana across his front from hip to shoulder, veins bulging across muscles as his arms whirled.

 

The timing was as accurate as it had to be. As soon as the bolt of lightning hurled into his pulsing barrier, Khaedal’s blade smashed into the bolt. A lightshow of brilliant green boomed from the impact, the two forces of power all but canceling one another out. What his magic barrier didn’t defend against, his katana bolted away through the air. Khaedal was left standing intact with his barrier vanishing in an instant, his sword in hand, staring down his would be challenger while the armies of the Cult of Power continued to battle with their Landonian enemies.

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meanwhile at lexdord

"I Shall say the plan is well underway, we will do our part by preparing a rocket launch, make it seem like a lunar surveyor" King Lewis explained to his small council

"Now I know what your all thinking, its pretty ridiculous to send something so valuable to the moon but its not, now think about this..... we havent heard of them storming at luna now have we? No have we heard that they can go anywhere on valucre? Yes hence it make perfect sense to just send it off the moment we have it in our possession"

The council sat silently as time was ticking.

"well thats good and all but wont Lilith know we have it? I mean its energy signature moving towards us wont go without notice unless...

is there a hidden device of some sort that the spies hold which could I dont know blind tracking magic?" Rotwell questioned

"something like that lets just say that if this succeeds she would infact find a quartz crystal"

"by the time the spies leave with the crown she would be too occupied with the 'crown' to notice that a much weaker more real crown just left her view"

"Wait theres something a missed with this, how was I not told of th-"

"Because we dont know what else it does we do know some basics about it and now we get to test out this crystal on the field itself, it may be dangerous but would you rather wait years? Do we even have years? 

anyways as far as we know it can mimic magical 'signals' not the magic itself but its residue and its signature, plus it amplifies the energy as its insides conduct a steady chain reaction which remains for up to 19 hours, according to the 5 gram sample with light magic. It leaves behind quartz residue. The best part is that in the expiriment even when crushed it continues to operate just as smaller more numerous crystals no more details not even its name nor its origin as of now shall be discussed!"

(The meeting will go on but thats boring so to the field)

Nu Martyr

The journey to the Capital city of Nu Martyr was stressful as passing by cities that soon would be consumed by the wake of Lilith and her paragons 

("all would have been avoided if people knew how to keep their mouths shut")

and like a bigot compared the people here to that of Lexdord but he soon stopped and kept on his way. 

he was hopping that the cities that are left could hold long enough for him to just get the crown and run. The problem would be breaking and entering for course, the soilders on the side were on high alert and most likely already suspected him.

yet his phycic powers told him that so far the soilders were foucused on preperations.

("so meny preperations so little time") he thought to himself as he approched the castle.

("cant just walk up to them without being halted mabye theres another way inside?") So Chow began searching.

 

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((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.

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