Post by The Narrator on Dec 29, 2013 0:23:33 GMT -5
Location: The Right Door in the Pyramid. Date: November 27th.
Participants & Post Order:
Razie Gillam Kevin Naiyu Sendrel Ozzy Dominic/Talon Quinn
The room is built like a hallway - thin and long, it seemed to stretch for miles into the darkness and not unlike the one the party had just travelled through. But as the group walks in, torches that line the walls flicker to life with a strange blaze but the light would feel strange. It banishes the shadows but the fire is not warm and it does not crackle or squirm. It appears that the fire’s only purpose is to show the way.
When the group approaches the end, there is a man standing still as water and holding a gold coin up to the light. An ogre’s body lies behind him, drenched in blood and savage wounds. The man is outfitted in thick black leather and with an equally black cloak swathed around his person. He does not move to greet or attack the group, he merely watches with eyes as cold as ice and just as glaring. Yet, he is not a man. As the cloak falls to the floor and pools at his feet, the lights flare a little brighter and in that glimpse, a skeletal face and a row of jagged teeth grin. The rogue is dead, like most in that lay beneath the sands yet he was standing and he was pacing now. A glimmer of bone could be seen through the gap in his gloves as he clutched at the coin.
Then he stopped and flipped the coin in the air. It landed neatly in his palm, the shine of the gold a stark contrast against the dark glove. He brought it to his eyes then looked up at the party, the dead stare roaming.
"Fight. One."
The sound was unexpected, guttural but clear. He had one sword in his hand and a bony finger pointed at the group. His eyes were unblinking, yet it was obvious that he was appraising them. Trying to find the best fighter, for only they would be worthy of the Key. The orifice that was his mouth widened into what could be called a hideous smile. "Only. One." So there the undead rogue stood, both swords by his side now and the lights were wavering. “Step. Forward.”
As his words meet its end, a great black slab of stone slides down behind them with a crash, barring their path.
The group must send one fighter in order to acquire the key. The man will not tolerate anything more and any interference will have severe consequences.
Last Edit: Dec 29, 2013 21:51:44 GMT -5 by The Narrator
Post by Razie Tynerson on Dec 29, 2013 5:11:59 GMT -5
Razie was fascinated at this new situation before him since out of all of his party members he had most likely done the most homework he found this undead man before them interesting, could he be one of the bandits from long ago that raided this tomb long ago? If he was what was he doing confined to this single tomb... this seemed extremely odd to him, but maybe once he was defeated he would be more willing to dispose information to them. He took a minute to really think about this before letting his current companions know what was on his mind.
"I believe this man is a member of the bandits who raided this tomb long ago and promptly died, how he became an undead before us however? That's something I cannot answer at this time, though luckily months ago I did studying on the undead in Piltover due to the... unfortunate fate of Demacia" He gave the two Demacians in the party a quick look of regret before going back to his 'evaluation.' "The creatures are obviously immune to most things that would kill the living and are quite resilient to forms of disables. Whoever feels up to this challenge, I recommend going for decapitation. I'll assume he isn't like a Shadow Isles undead and is very suspectible to permanent damage since he is without this 'hivemind' I've heard about."
A moment after his short speech he quickly added "This also means that I will not be fighting him, my chances just from evaluating his weapons and stature are less than 30%."
He wasn't sure out of his fellow members would feel most comfortable fighting such a creature since this man appeared to be an assassin, an unfavorable matchup for Ozzy himself and Kevin given their relatively 'squishiness' he thought maybe Quinn could stand a chance since from seeing her in league matches she was somewhat used to fighting opponents such as this, but that was on the fields and with her bird. The others could probably stand with him, but as for going for a kill? He was quite stumped.
Razie status: 90% overall healthy Proto Armor functioning at 79% Equipment:
Backpack with water and sandwhiches (minus 1, 9 left)
A dozen Spark Taps
The Gloves, which he was wearing underneath the proto-armor Gigashield set
His pistol with 3 rounds and 5 magazines remaining
((forgot my status XD))
Last Edit: Dec 30, 2013 10:19:44 GMT -5 by Razie Tynerson
Post by Gillam Dunwall on Dec 29, 2013 18:51:59 GMT -5
Gillam's muscled tightened as he saw the undead bandit standing in front of the group, an ogre corpse behind him, and a gleam in his pale, yet lifeless eye sockets. His hand wrapped around his lance, wanting to charge straight at the bandit and end it then and there. Gillam's instincts told him to go for it, but he knew it would be suicide, especially if there were more undead lying in wait. He held off, waiting for the rest of the group to form a plan.
"I believe this man is a member of the bandits who raided this tomb long ago and promptly died, how he became an undead before us however? That's something I cannot answer at this time, though luckily months ago I did studying on the undead in Piltover due to the... unfortunate fate of Demacia" He gave the two Demacians in the party a quick look of regret before going back to his 'evaluation.' "The creatures are obviously immune to most things that would kill the living and are quite resilient to forms of disables. Whoever feels up to this challenge, I recommend going for decapitation. I'll assume he isn't like a Shadow Isles undead and is very suspectible to permanent damage since he is without this 'hivemind' I've heard about."
For once, Gillam didn't zone out during one of Razie's speeches. He sized up the bandit once more, taking in the information Razie was spewing out about this particular undead. He took a moment to wince at the thought of the Shadow Isles invasion. Bits and pieces of that nightmarish night zoomed through his mind. He cursed himself, bringing back his attention to the task at hand.
Decapitation...Gillam's lance was certainly not the best weapon to do the job. He preferred the lance for it's uncanny ability to pierce a target's body. If he were to decapitate the bandit, he would have to swing the lance to the side, which would not only be an awkward stroke of the lance, but would also telegraph the wide movement to his enemy, which would give him more time to react to the decapitation attempt.
"I could try to deal some damage to this...thing, but in the end, somebody else would have to decapitate it."
"No matter the era, I am Demacian, through and through."
Post by Demacia's Wings on Dec 29, 2013 21:50:41 GMT -5
The ranger half expected the floor to fall beneath their feet as they walked and she flinched at every sound that wasn’t a footstep. Quinn was on edge, and while on one hand she knew it was silly to act like such a coward, she knew that it would keep her alive somehow. When they reached the end of the corridor, she saw a figure. Just a shadow flickering in and out and when he finally came into sight, it took all of who she was; every vow and every prayer, to not turn heel or fire at will.
Quinn first gaped at the man with the toothless sneer, a continuous shiver crawling up her spine as she recalled the last time she had faced a dead warrior. No, not a warrior but a boy with eyes like hers and a nose not quite like hers; a gentle smile curved into a decaying hiss of anger. Quinn wondered how she could remember it like that and then she wondered how she could ever forget the way his eyes looked so dead. Because he was, she had to remind herself, because he would never return to her and she needed to accept that no matter how difficult it was.
She heard Razie’s voice, droning on and on about something she was not able to hear. Her attention was on the man before them, that dancing grin and the beckoning taste of steel shining with a sickly green tinge. Quinn wet her lips before she spoke, her voice trembling slightly beneath her words. “I could fight him,” then she gestured with her weapon, “But as… as he said,” she looked at Gillam, “I won’t be able to decapitate him.” Perhaps the rogue just wanted to fight, to prove his strength… but the dead had nothing to prove. “Not by myself.” Then she fell silent.
If she had to fight this thing, so be it. Quinn fared better than most bowmen simply because her weapon made it easier to run and fight at close range but those blades looked too sharp for her own liking.
Status: Healthy.
Items:
- Crossbow - Small dagger - Default clothes/armor - Metal canteen filled with water - Strips of leather - Small packets of food
Modified Skills
Harrier (Passive) - Targets a vulnerable enemy and deals extra damage.
Blinding Assault (Q) - Fires a range of arrows aimed directly at the eyes. - Will blind the target if any arrow hits them. They cannot be blinded more than once per Q.
Heightened Senses (W) - ON CD. - Attacking a vulnerable target will grant Quinn bonus attack speed. - Quinn will put herself in a state of 'Heightened Senses', gaining an increase in awareness in Valor's absence. All area within range (2100) will be revealed to her for 2 seconds, including things in utter darkness and fog.
Post by Kevin Droflum on Dec 30, 2013 18:45:38 GMT -5
As the group entered the room, Kevin was noticably uneasy, but when the wall slammed behind him, he slightly jumped. 'I guess there's no turning back now,' is all that went through his mind. Soon after, his attention was brought to the lone monster in the room. An undead warrior that uses two swords? Great, something he couldn't copy spells from and it would try to be up in his face as much as it could.
Hearing those two words brought a bit of relief to him, he did not want to fight this.. thing, not one bit. He listened as everyone gave their explanations of wither they could fight it or not. As Quinn finished up her's he spoke up and decided to give his.
"I don't think I should fight him." He held up three fingers to the group, a torch flickered as a part of its flame floated over and above one of his fingers. Soon after a small spark start crackling over another showing off the Spark Bolt he had copied from one of the other group's members. Finally, earth from around the room started forming over his final finger, making a skeleton around it. "These are the only three spells I know at the moment, none of which are good for decapitation." As he said that he kind let out a relieved sigh, knowing that he wouldn't be forced against the warrior.
Post by Naiyu Persici Lu on Dec 31, 2013 11:28:22 GMT -5
Naiyu's eyes swept passively over the fighter of bone, a look of quiet disturbance and festering concern behind them. This place was already dangerous as it was, that was why being in a group was necessary. But this was to be a one on one? After only recently overcoming a fight with those vicious brutes called Ogres, they were thrust into another fight with little time to breathe...or recover.
The petite golden eyed Summoner regarded her comrades as they began explaining their chances against the eager undead rouge before them. Naiyu already knew her stance on the matter, she was sure everyone else obviously did as well. But out of courtesy and a mere ting of formality, she also said her minor piece.
"...A-As much as I would like to help...I'm sure we all know...what would happen, if I were to go anywhere n-near that...person." Came her voice, a barely audible float across the deafening unease in the air. Her rather strained tone also held back the annoyance at herself, as the rules also made it impossible for her to assist the one eventually chosen, rendering her fully useless this time, as well...
"...The most I could do, is to fully heal...whoever has to do this...so they go in at their best..." It was all she could do to lend some sort of hand. As she said this, her eyes drifted to the remaining three members of their group. It was probably going to be up to one of them...
Sendrel was disappointed as the torches on the wall suddenly lit up. No darkness for him to fight in while the others bumbled around. Oh, well. As they entered the chamber containing the undead rogue, Sendrel began sizing him up. Exposed skull and arm bones, twin blades, and the ability to single-handedly take down an ogre. Quite the fighter. He listened to Razie's short speech on undead disposal methods, then the others as they backed out in turn.
Finally, Sendrel spoke up. "Well, decapitation would naturally lead to our lone swordsman, Dominic." he said, pointing to Dominic, "But I can tell you from... experience... that there are more ways than slicing to remove a man's head." he looked back at the rogue, "Especially on someone with a presumably weaker body structure. And if push comes to shove, broken skulls make for easily removed brains. So I'll volunteer to fight him, unless you think Dominic is a better choice." As Sendrel spoke, he made sure not to shift position, in case the group picked Dominic over him. He sincerely hoped they wouldn't, though, as he was itching for a good duel. ________________________ Status: Healthy (98%), Internally preparing for a duel
Q: Ready E: Ready R: On CD (4 minutes?)
Last Edit: Dec 31, 2013 14:18:30 GMT -5 by Sendrel
Ozzy kept silently behind the group, simply watching with fascination as the undead creature spoke. He hadn't been present during the invasion and hadn't seen an undead creature in the flesh before. Part of him was clutched by a morbid curiosity, he removed his glasses allowing the soft golden glow from his eyes to be seen by anyone who looked in his direction, the irises rotated as they focused his vision upon the creature. Where they got decapitation from as they only answer he didn't know. Why not set it on fire with Razie's torch? Or stab it in the eye socket and scramble its brain?
The gunslinger didn't quiet grasp the idea of fighting the undead, but nonetheless he remained silent instead of asking aloud. Everyone was busy having their say and he didn't quiet feel like it'd make much difference what he said.
Post by The Blade's Shadow on Dec 31, 2013 18:08:54 GMT -5
Talon's feet came down on the stones as quietly as possible, each step barely audible compared to the others' deafening clomps. The passage finally opened up to a room, and it became clear what it was they needed to do as soon as the door slammed shut behind them. His eyes swept across the party at large as the decaying assassin called out his raspy challenge. Each of them popped off their reasons one by one, and the only one who seemed eager to step up was the metal one.
The amputee took a step forward and cleared his throat, spreading his arms... What remained of them. "I'll do it if I must, but I'm minus one arm and I don't have a sheet of metal between a blade and my stomach." He explained, turning his head to Sendrel, giving the cyborg a minute nod before offering his blade up to the robot. "If you can use it, you're welcome to it."
It felt disgusting to offer a blade of his to someone, but this wasn't one he had for any reason except to throw off suspicion. Even though he'd offered it, he was fairly sure Sendrel wouldn't take it. He probably didn't know how to use it anyway. If he took it or not, he would simply turn step toward the back of the group. He reached up and slipped his goggles from his eyes, stopping as he reached Quinn's side long enough to speak his piece.
His voice dropped to a quiet whisper, suggesting off-handedly that she put her back to the wall. "It's clearly an assassin. An underhanded fighter. Don't expect it to be fair. If it can take a hostage, it might. I've never known the unliving to be particularly honorable either." Either she listened or not, he'd done his bit. His back was pressed against the wall that covered the exit to this room, staring at the undead murderer, a hand slipping into his clothing to take hold of a single rake dagger. He was ready to react at the slightest threat to his life. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he'd protect the others as well, one of them more willingly than the others. He didn't trust this place in the slightest.
Post by The Narrator on Jan 1, 2014 3:40:10 GMT -5
Location: The Right Door in the Pyramid. Date: November 27th.
Participants & Post Order:
Razie Gillam Kevin Naiyu Sendrel Ozzy Dominic/Talon Quinn
As soon as a fighter had been chosen, the dead man laughed though it sounded like more of a death rattle if anything. Bone and more bone clacked together as he clicked his spidery fingers twice, then three times and just when it seemed to follow a tune, a fourth time. At once, a low rumble came from the ceiling and from the ground and it seemed to shake from everywhere at once. The trappings of glass came from the top and from the bottom, clasping jaws around each individual like an hourglass. Only the fighter remained uncaged but the rest would find themselves imprisoned.
The dead man laughed his horrible laugh once more, “Just. In case.” He pointed a sword point at the figher, the other held rigidly at his side as his lipless, fleshless mouth widened. “Tick. Tock.” And as the last syllable spilled, so did the sand that began to trickle down into the hourglasses, pooling at their feet and sliding down the sides. It seemed to be attached to the ceiling above, drawing from the copious amount of sand that rested above them.
"Fight." The rogue hissed, his swords dripping with poison and without another word, pushed off with a speed surprising for someone who should have been dead, and then vanished mid dash only to reappear right behind Sendrel in a motion ready to slash at his back.
Post by Demacia's Wings on Jan 1, 2014 3:44:04 GMT -5
With her thoughts running wild and Quinn doing nothing to stop them, she watched as their champion walked forward. The man seemed eager to fight, still and unconcerned. People like that were not difficult to understand but it felt different now. She saw the blade being presented to the man called Sendrel, but all she really saw was the man who approached her after.
Even with his hood and low voice, it still made her shiver. She remembered the whir of blades now and the glint of sharp steel and a slight stabbing pain in her abdomen all at once. Quinn heard herself swallow lightly through the soft throb in her head as she watched him step forward. She only hoped he would be less merciful than he was to her, and the ranger even opened her mouth to say as much but the sudden shaking caught her off balance. She bent her knees, getting ready to dodge whatever was coming but she could not anticipate that it would come from beneath the ground and in mere milliseconds, she found herself trapped.
“A-ah…” Quinn pressed her palm against the glass, noticing the way her fingers were trembling over the transparent surface yet not really seeing as Death gestured to his door with a wicked laugh and an even wickeder smile. He spoke, bone clattering but the ranger did not hear. That was when she was made aware of the sand that had begun to stream from overhead. It spilled over her head and she quickly reeled back, her back slamming against the side as if the grains were rock and fire.
Her weapon was still clutched in her hand but Quinn dared not shoot an arrow – it would be suicide to do so and yet, she found herself breathing heavily. Her ribs felt like they were strangling her heart, her head pounded not with thoughts of Caleb but of these glass walls and this sand that had begun to steadily rise. Then she felt it. The rising panic as her fist slammed against the glass, trying to break and trying to escape but she was a bird left without wings to fly. The continuous motion seemed to force the sand to stream down a little faster and she felt the first grains brush against her ankles, her shoes completely engulfed in amber.
Quinn attempted to take another breath and found it stuck in her throat. Her eyes widened – she was a bird in the dark and she couldn’t breathe. Her hand came up, scrabbling at her neck as that would somehow release the air trapped inside her, leaving angry wounds, red and raw, in her wake. Only when she felt she could take no more did her body allow the breath to escape and Quinn fell against the glass with an injured gasp; the container did not even seem to shake but the ranger did not seem to notice. Her nails were curled against her breast, trying to extinguish the flames engulfing her and her eyes were on the glitter of gold with panting breaths escaping her at strange intervals. She did not even seem to notice if the fight had started or if this had happened to the others.
The only thing she could do was breathe a little faster, then a little slower as fear gripped her and the only thing she could think of was Caleb with his contorted face, of Valor with his wings torn and bloodied and the cold, dead man with the cold dead smile.
Status: Healthy.
Items:
- Crossbow - Small dagger - Default clothes/armor - Metal canteen filled with water - Strips of leather - Small packets of food
Modified Skills
Harrier (Passive) - Targets a vulnerable enemy and deals extra damage.
Blinding Assault (Q) - Fires a range of arrows aimed directly at the eyes. - Will blind the target if any arrow hits them. They cannot be blinded more than once per Q.
Heightened Senses (W) - - Attacking a vulnerable target will grant Quinn bonus attack speed. - Quinn will put herself in a state of 'Heightened Senses', gaining an increase in awareness in Valor's absence. All area within range (2100) will be revealed to her for 2 seconds, including things in utter darkness and fog.
Ozzy's whole body tensed, his eyes snapped wide open as the glass slammed down, encasing him within it's small confines. He glanced around to see that it had happened to the others too, and that Quinn was having what seemed to be a panic attack, "Well... Fuck." he whispered to himself. If a champion was having a panic attack, that certainly didn't bode well for anyone else. He laughed with a sharp burst, borderline hysterical. The sand trickling down only made him that much more anxious, he tapped the glass with a robotic finger hoping to get the champion's attention as she panicked, "Luv'!" he called to her, trying to get her attention unsure if the glass was soundproof or not. The way he saw it, if she was panicking, it meant he should be, if she wasn't then he had no real reason to, he really had no idea what the hell to say, but for his own sake he wanted her to stop. He spoke keeping his voice somewhat calm though he couldn't help the slight shake that had crept into it."What are ya doin' lookin' like a scared little rabit for?"
Still unsure if she could hear him, he shifted anxiously, his golden eyes flicking to the undead creature before moving back to Quinn.
Post by Gillam Dunwall on Jan 2, 2014 0:53:33 GMT -5
The glass came down around Gillam, suddenly disconnecting himself from the group. Again, the memories began to flood back, all at once. The icy entombment he had to suffer for generations came back to him. His breath grew short, and he could feel time slowing down. Time. Time had taken all he ever knew of his past life away from him. And, at last, time would be the end of Gillam as well.
Gillam quickly snapped out of his short panic, cursing under his breath. He looked to the rest of the group, only to notice Quinn having a similar panic attack in her glass chamber, and the Bilgewater man attempting to comfort her. Unfortunately, unlike Gillam's quick episode, Quinn's didn't show any sign of ceasing. It was understandable, after all. She was a ranger, a champion who enjoyed freedom of movement. Being trapped within an enclosed area was probably hell for her.
The knight then turned his attention toward the battle. The undead bandit was holding two swords with a sickly green substances, most likely poison. He feared for Sendrel, who was chosen to face the undead, but at the same time, he was rather glad he didn't have to worry about him. Suddenly, the bandit reappeared behind Sendrel, and Gillam let out a cry of alarm. Even if Sendrel heard him from outside of the glass chamber, his warning had come too late.
"No matter the era, I am Demacian, through and through."
Post by The Blade's Shadow on Jan 3, 2014 6:38:16 GMT -5
It was as if the place had heard him speak. Having just finished making it clear that the rogue wasn't likely to play fair, he was encased in a tube of glass, surrounded before he could even lean back completely against the wall. It had been fast, faster than he had been able to react, snatching the end of his cloak and yanking it up as it went. It was a small mercy his neck wasn't twisted off in the process but it left him unable to breathe. Panic crept into him quickly as the knife he held came up to his throat, pressed dangerously close to his skin as he frantically tried to saw his own clothing off, toes barely touching the ground to keep him from a swift broken neck.
His vision blurred slightly the moment before the thick cloth came apart and released its death grip on his neck, though he quickly found himself with his face to the glass, catching himself as he greedily sucked in air and tried to forget the unnerving feeling of brushing against an untimely, noiseless death. He gathered himself slowly, taking a swift check of the room. His allies were in the same predicament, though Quinn seemed to be having a decidedly awful go of it. That information didn't help to calm him.
He was stuck in glass, still armed and slowly having his life taken away from him yet again, one grain of sand at a time. He put his hand to the substance immediately, testing it for weakness, hoping it was for some unknown reason, thin. There was no way he could be certain, it had taken the bump from his shoulder without breaking. Perhaps it was his desire not to be killed by sand and glass, but he was driven to turn around and reach into his cloak. His armblade was thankfully on this side of the barrier and undamaged.
He took the weapon and slipped it onto his good arm, placing the point against the glass and- He paused. It was just glass, right? All it should take, unless it was incredibly thick, was a good application of force to break. He even had a single point to focus his weight. Surely it wouldn't survive that... He pulled his goggles back over his eyes. If he was right, there would be shards and he would still like to see on the other side. Maybe he was going soft.
Once more, Talon put the tip of his armblade against the glass, wedging his elbow against his hip before throwing the entire weight of his body behind it and into the wall of his prison.
Status: Panicked but healthy (94%)
Cooldowns: None expended
Items: Armblade (Equipped) Longsword (Sheathed) 10 Rake Blades (Hidden) One week's travel rations Outland Gear (Cloak and hood missing) Goggles
Post by Razie Tynerson on Jan 3, 2014 9:15:37 GMT -5
One would think that with his life literally on a timer Razie clearly being the stuck up spoiled rich kid would be the first to panic and begin screaming for mercy, but instead he was strangely calm on the exterior. The moment the rogue had called these hourglasses upon them Razie instantly took off The Gloves that he was wearing underneath the proto-armor's and let them fall to his feet reaching inside of his backpack for his Giga-Shield set, the space in his hourglass was a bit of a squeeze for him and if he was claustrophobic he would definitely be losing his mind. That wasn't the case however, though as he pulled the two intricate pieces of metal from his backpack and felt something land on his hair, he reached up and gave it a quick feel and found it was sand when suddenly more started falling on his head every second. "Great." he thought, now his spring of the moment idea would be cancelled by this bothersome sand, what a bother.
He didn't know how much they had before their lives were forfeit and it made him wonder which would he die from first, the lack of proper air this glass was feeding him or the sand that would eventually engulf him. But all that simple thought did was make his hands wish to work faster as he began fiddling with his tools to hopefully save him from this slow approaching dread, the quick and most likely sloppy work (atleast to him) he was performing to the Giga-Shield was to slightly differ from it's normal functioning and shield around his entire body rather than whatever direction the device was deployed and yet every second he attempted to reach this goal the madness was setting in, he heard a whisper in a sinister voice "If the others survive they will abandon you, and you will do the same should you survive."
Droplets of sweat were starting to pour down his face and onto a piece of the Giga-Shield, as he saw this happen his eye twitched. He wanted to take a deep breath and force himself to remain calm but this current situation was proving too difficult, he found his hands stopped working and his head falling forward onto the glass to look at Sendrel and their current opposition. All he could do was watch and wait for their salvation or their inevitable end in this tomb of nightmares, and if they did somehow survive Razie could only get the feeling that things were only going to get worse.
Razie status: 90% overall healthy, though slightly panicking. Proto Armor not activated due to gloves being taken off. Power resting at 79% Equipment:
Backpack with water and sandwhiches (minus 1, 9 left)
A dozen Spark Taps
The Gloves, which he was wearing underneath the proto-armor Gigashield set which was being worked on with the passive "Open for Business" in order to tweak their function.
His pistol with 3 rounds and 5 magazines remaining
Last Edit: Jan 3, 2014 16:40:29 GMT -5 by Razie Tynerson
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