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Post by The Carrying Blade on Feb 24, 2018 14:39:16 GMT -8
Nasuada was prepared and saw the cloven foot coming easily, she dove off to the right into a roll, trying to roll into standing on her feet and not be down and dirty with the floor. With this lapse in concentration the tentacles threatened to snap and disappear, but for the moment they seemed to hang in strong. Feeling the drain she was half tempted to end the spell, but continued to keep the flow steady, making the tentacles pull even harder to try and rip the weapon out of the giant beasts arms.
Hopefully her other teammates would try to kill the beast while she could still maintain the spell, for once happy that a comrade went mad angry and wanting to hurt their enemy instead of hiding away. She wondered if this thing even had a brain, or if it was just a vast mass of meat with hunger and a mouth. Either way it took some control not to be disgusted by it, and another to dodge it in this filth.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Feb 24, 2018 14:58:11 GMT -8
/Sicherlein/
She gave one last smile to the boy before turning around to the utter havoc unfolding before her.
At the very least, the boy was safe and she could focus. Focus on fighting, on killing, something she was more familiar with than handling the mewling babe or the bubbling stew.
Arm still curled against her chest, she pulled out a small medicinal looking tincture from her jack and snapped off a leather nipple cap. With some excited but practiced easy, she slipped the needle like neck into her nostril and inhaled deeply.
Immediately; the boy faded from her memory, the chaos ahead of her became inexorably sharp. From the dancing sparks to the shouting man, to the roaring flame and the unearthly tendrils. Even the queer dwarfish man, vanishing into the distant flickering shadows, all became sharp. An almost dream-like haze and bloom overlayed it all.
The world moved so slowly to her now, presenting themselves like a wetted bedswerver.
Her own mercurial grace had her slip the tincture back into her jacket, while her other pulled her cap and iron veil back over her eyes. It turned the blinding sparks and glistening metal and flesh into something more tangible, through the ported visor. Each circle like a portal into this hell she so wished to embroil herself in.
Sicherlein's last grace was to shut the grate behind her, hardly realizing the deed was done before her hands found her spatha and dagger; holding the latter in her torch hand, jutting out from the bottom of her curled fingers.
Battle-ready at last, she would bound forward, heedless of the metal man's exclamations and the writhing tendrils; straight towards the back of the Meatly Abomination, aiming to clamber up its back, to its neck. Using her dagger and blades to act as holding spikes in this pursuit...
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Post by rumsztyk on Feb 28, 2018 12:05:42 GMT -8
Recovering from the rapid and unorthodox use of his powers, Ibrahim could not help but marvel at the uncanny ferocity of the Crusader. The violence was almost... mesmerizing. And Xuul has took note.
FEED HIS FLAME! THIS IS THE QUICKEST PATH TO VICTORY!
The raw emotion, the fury that fueled Libourg was fodder for the eldritch power. And yet, Ibrahim felt guilty when he approached Libourg from behind and touched his armored back.
"Kill it, quick!" He released the channeled spell in an attempt to bolster the Crusader in his rampage against the filth. He hoped it would not backfire... but began to retreat a few steps as soon as the deed was done.
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Post by Unter on Mar 1, 2018 11:29:53 GMT -8
Iver was stabbing continually at the beast, still yelling and at the limit of full blown panick. Then, something writhed into the mouth and extirped him out of the gaping hole. The thing tossed him out of the pit of Doom that was slowly swallowing him. The tentacle grapped him with enough force to push the air out of his lungs, choking his yell inside his throat. He was panicked. What in the nine hell was this thing ? The fact that it threw him like a patch of wood didn't help. He fell on his back, away from the fight and he found himself back in the corridor they came from. Pretty much everything hurt now. Hopefully he wasn't hurt, but he couldn't see, or feel, a damn thing. The good news were that he could move his limbs. He stayed on the ground trying to recover his sense, the now distant yells of Libourg worsening his mood.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 1, 2018 18:31:35 GMT -8
Beast:
A mace, unleashed with such arcane power, that shattered its knee from the side and a dozen or so bloody cuts in its mouth would normally have been enough to anger the beast further, though the daggers in the leathery neck of the creature incited some sort of ancient reflex of self defense.
It fell over, leaving its weapon in Nasuada's eldritch grip.
Moreover, it fell over in an attempt to crush Sicherlein, who had clamored onto its neck, leaning in whichever direction she was to maximize its chances of crushing the woman under its gargantuan weight.
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Mar 2, 2018 9:02:07 GMT -8
With effort Nasuada directed the tentacles to toss the weapon far away from the beast, aiming towards the place opposite Iver had gone and landed, still away from the child but thankfully not where the creature could easily retrieve it again. Though when she saw the beast fall she couldn’t help but try to grapple the beast and slow the fall, but when she tried her head split apart with a sharp pain and the tentacles would wither and die off as the spell was canceled.
“F-fuck....damnit all.....curse this poison.” She muttered to herself, having to go into her clothing and pull out the bottle of supplements that was hidden away. It was a little dirty but otherwise clean, and so she opened up and popped a few in her mouth, wanting this migraine of pain to disappear as fast as it could. She looked to Ibrahim, having seen him use his magic to boost the power of the raging crusader, a dangerous but worthwhile idea from how the man went and shattered a knee with ease. Now she had to wait, watching the beast with tired eyes as she prepared herself and her dagger to possible help stab the beast once she recovered a little.
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Post by relentless on Mar 2, 2018 13:53:17 GMT -8
A blur of thought, panic and terror constantly washed over him, which only reinforced his constant fury, zealous and true. Just like his stepfather. Of course he was more brutal, but none the less hard hitting.
Then came the wash of eldritch manipulation, once again Ibrahim played a part in Libourgs psyche. First the arm, and now this. It pained Libourg greatly, physically even, causing him to let out a cry of pain and anguish. His hand went to his head for a brief moment, he could feel himself choking, he could feel the dirty pigmen putting their hands on his armour. His sword.
His fathers ring.
"Fuckin stupid pig mongrel! I'll have your guts!"
Libourg yelled, spit flying out of the holes in his grill. His words carried weight, his face was red with murderous, primal rage, and he gripped the mace like a literal vice. Charging forward with no care for personal safety, he would proceed to swing like a barbarian on shrooms, swinging hard into the creatures armour, determined to break through. And have his guts, literally.
"Die! DIE!"
Libourg panted with no breath, but still managed to deliver harsh, crazed words as he slammed his mace into its side, chaining his strikes. He would deliver about five, to six hits with wild ferocity, putting all his strength into his blows. Hopefully, his mace would shatter the armour, or perhaps even better.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Mar 11, 2018 11:14:00 GMT -8
/Sicherlein/
The Tin Man's howling pounded in her ears, only adding to the sharp bleating of the beast she'd grappled. Yet, in this visceral, pained clarity she noted a distinct side-ways slant to her perspective. A rush in her breast not inspired by any intentional imbuement, rather, the natural panic of falling... From trees, stalactites and even buttresses and castle walls, she'd fallen. This was the first time she was falling from a meatly giant of a monster.
With a sharp breath, she did her beast to lean in the opposite direction of the beast's descent; leaving her dagger, she put all her strength into holding her spatha as she planted her feet on the creature's neck and made to kick off and away from the monster. It was an aimless retreat, but such was the necessary haste demanded. Indeed, through a crowded yet organized brain, she figured the drug was the only reason she even had time to think of the actions at all...
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Post by rumsztyk on Mar 12, 2018 9:38:54 GMT -8
Walking in long circles around the beast, Ibrahim is on the lookout for the wounded. Ignoring the throbbing guilt inside his head for perusing Libourg like a tool, he tried his best to salvage the situation, skulking in the shadows.
"Enough damage was done. Relieve the crusader." He commands inwardly to Xuul.
His demon, however, had other plans. Weakening the bolstering effect on Libourg was not in his interests. And, of course, Ibrahim needn't know. Thus, the raging fire in Libourg's heart might die down, but the embers are scorching hot and ready to blow up in a flaming crescendo of fury at the slightest provocation.
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Post by Unter on Mar 13, 2018 10:34:23 GMT -8
Iver was struggling to get up. Libourg was still pummeling like there was no tomorrow, Sicherlein climbed the beast like a tree and Nasuada was wrestling the beast with... with what ? Eldritch bullshittery. It maked him want to puke, even worse than the bloody piggies. He wouldn't try to attack the beast head on this time, he couldn't risk to climb it again and he can't pierce anything on the lower body. He just approached, watched his steps and the beast's and kept watching. Maybe reinforcements would come, the gargantual beast was screaming like she was boiling in the Realm of Hel.
He watched, and waited for an opportunity to help someone or fight. Or maybe find something amidst the chaos.
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Post by Vanitypirate on Mar 15, 2018 8:04:57 GMT -8
Beast:
It hit the ground hard, with a loud crash of plate metal that met the cacophony of Libourg's mad hollering and flailing.
With an unholy screech, bleeding heavily from the wounds on its neck, it struggled weakly to rise.
Torch:
As Nasuada's magic ebbed and Ibrahim's magic--unwitting or otherwise-- flowed, a chill would come over the party.
The torch's gold hue burned crimson, a brilliant, beautiful hue, albeit unnatural. For a moment, the entire room was cast in this red color, illuminating the walls around-- the dimensions of the room seemed to be rather large, spanning a good thirty or forty feet at its width-- and the body on the ground, the blood around it.
It lasted just for that one moment, before a cold breeze came and, like one would blow out the flame of a candle, the torch was put out. The party was left in complete darkness.
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Post by The Carrying Blade on Mar 17, 2018 14:38:07 GMT -8
Nasuada grinned as the beast hit the ground hard, before the lights went out again with a red exit, showing the entire room in a red hue. Her head throbbed with pain and her breath was labored, but thanks to the darkness and the pills it helped relieve the bad affects of poison and magic use. Though now there was still the monster to finish off, and with its weight it would probably be unable to rise easily so it should be simple to kill it. Using her memory she walked over to where Ibrahim was at, or at least close enough to where she could speak without yelling. “Bold move using the crusader, we hope once the creature is killed you will have a way to calm him down however, otherwise going back will prove hard with a man of rage. While we have a little time, we’ve wanted to ask, why do you and your demon have such a hard time together? It’s not hard to see you have problems.” She asked, curious as why it was that the two seemed more enemy than friend. Per Van’s asking—
The draw back of her using magic, can be multiple things honestly. Going off of as she is now, the pain she’s experiencing, and the stuff she’s taking is because of the recent Blood Weald expedition where she got kinda puffed in the face with some toxic stuff that’s affected her, as well as her run in with Obitus and his magic canceling silence. Because of this she’s now experiencing bad headaches to horrible migraines which will happen when she tries using her magic too long, too much, or too fast. The supplements she’s bought, so she doesn’t have to stay in the sanitarium for like 2 weeks or something which she doesn’t want, have to be taken 3 times a day minimum, otherwise her symptoms will worsen, and once they worsen enough she’ll have to go back and get fixed up before it finds a way to kill her in a week at most. The supplements do not take away the pain fully, or immediately, especially right now when it’s a really bad one. She’s really vulnerable right now despite what it may seem, her head is still throbbing with a lot of pain, her stamina has been halved, reflex’s sluggish, she can’t even use magic at the moment nor will it be plausible farther down the line unless she wants to risk blacking out.
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Post by relentless on Mar 24, 2018 0:40:36 GMT -8
Libourg was dead set pm causing the creature more harm. The collection of pig squeals seemed to mix with his own mad hollering as he raised his mace again, only for pitch darkness to follow. Now he stood still, his arm quivered with anxiety, lowering itself slowly as he took shaky, and abrupt steps back.
He seemed to choke his words, eyes wide and becoming increasingly bloodshot as he shook from head to toe. Faces, pig faces lined the shadows as he moved away, grinning at him but never moving or distorting. Just there... faintry watching him. The shiver of plate and Libourgs gagging of words failing to form themselves could be heard faintly in the shadow, perhaps even the sheen of his armour.
"Y-you useless whoremongers! T-their just pi-pigs!"
He managed to quirk up from his throat, in a worried sense. Fear seemed to override his current affliction, if only for a moment.
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Post by Unter on Mar 25, 2018 14:05:44 GMT -8
Iver watched the giant beast crumble as the intense pummeling threw it down on the ground. A victory ! Perhaps a turning point. He advanced as a tiny dust storm was stirred from the beast's dramatic fall. He advanced like a victor, despite his height. A dagger flashed in his hands, and he rushed to the beast's side. And then, Darkness held dominion. Maybe the fall wasn't a good omen after all. The light was everything : They would die without it. They would all die, like trapped rats. Fear swelled up in Iver. He never did really like the darkness. He grew up of course, and learned how to deal with this fear. But now, covered in a thick... something beyond his imagination, old fear came back.
Libourg was still as mad as a dog that was refused its bone. Bloody hell, the fool man would chop them up to pieces in the dark ! Even worse for Iver, he was the size of a pig man. He steered clear of Libourg. The man was ranting like a bloody madman, it was easy to dodge him. Iver didn't know where the others were, but he knew what he had to do. This faen beast was still alive ! He clenched his hands on his dagger, and prepared to deal the killing blow. Let's see how this dirty beast enjoy worshipping the mud now.
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Post by rumsztyk on Mar 28, 2018 10:25:29 GMT -8
The light lingered briefly, originating from the occultist.
The candle lit atop Ibrahim's skull charm gave faint light and revealed his location, but only momentarily. He snuffed it out promptly.
Nasuada would hear him step back, splashing the muck on the floor. "Have you no subtlety whatsoever?" He dryly replied to her, clearing his throat afterwards. "Later." He added in a whisper.
He tried to percieve in the darkness with the remaining senses. Smell was overwhelmed, touch was limited, but hearing might prove useful. All the while, guilt grew on him. "Yes, just pigs. They fall to your blows easily." Words of mild encouragement were directed at Libourg.
"Fighting in the dark is a dangerous proposition, but we have not a choice in the matter."
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