Aerion [IC] Rated M
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March 11th, 2013 (8:20 PM).
Percival Grey- Xin Kou, Shingou
Percival was never a great warrior. From his birth, he had always a better mind for the court. For the politics. For the games that tested a man's intelligence and ingenuity rather than his skills with a blade. But now was not the time for regrets. For questioning why he was here. For wondering if death was coming for him. In some ways, he was already in Infernum. The flames of Auden rose from seemingly nowhere, blasting though much of the throng before them. The stench of burnt rotting corpses filled the air, carried by the wind to the nostrils of Percival. He had closed his eyes to try to imagine a better place at a better time. The salty air of the city of water, Dinas, was a good place to Percival with fond memories of spending time with Elizabeth Taimor, now the head of her family, and her siblings during the visits he had when his mother brought him south to the Golden Islands. Those were times in which the harsh realities of Aerion were nothing more than topics and problems reserved for adults. In this brief fantasy, Percival gained a clearer mind: That fantasy was Astrum. But where he was, with the deathly smell, the wailing sounds and horrifying sights; that was Infernum.
The first demons of the Necromancer that braved through the flames lunged forward for the Knights. The sliding of the rotting limbs awoke Percival. He took a deep breath to gain his composure, to remind himself that what he was fighting already had a chance at life. That the creature before him was awaiting a second death, a release from its life of undead servitude. In Percival's self righteous mind, it would make facing the hard truth that Percival would have to kill much easier. He opened his eyes to see decaying bodies of flesh and bone slide over to him. Once humans, probably farmers, the only remains of their past life was their stature. Their faces were rotting away, with flesh and bone exposed, hair falling to the wayside with each weak step. The skin was pale and peeled away, revealing muscle tissue and the occasional bone piercing out. It was an unwelcoming sight to be awoken to after such a pleasant day dream. The first undead creature, resembling "Zombies" from the children's literature he read as a child, lunged forward at Percival and he batted away the creature with his shield. As it collapsed to the ground, Percival stomped on its head, with its insides spewing all over the ground in a juicy explosion. The second felt no fear or remorse and attacked Percival in a similar fashion, clawing at the armored knight before him. Percival swung his mace at the zombie aiming for the head, disposing of the creature in a single strike. A third zombie flanked Percival, but he used his shield to block the attack. He pushed the creature back and struck the creature in the torso with his mace knocking the beast down to the ground. However, Percival's mouth fell in shock as the zombie rose from the ground gingerly, lacking the proper muscle definition to lift himself with ease. "That strike would leave any man in need for a healer," Percival said to himself. Angry, Percival slammed his mace down on the head of the zombie as it rose to his feet, causing the monster to collapse into the dirt.
"The head seems to be their weakness! Everyone aim for the head!" Percival called to all those around him. As he finished calling out to the others (making sure to repeat himself in his best Shingouese), a hellish hound-like creature tackled Percival, bringing him to the ground. Barely managing to put his shield up to protect himself from the gaping jaws, Percival realized far too late that he was separated from his mace. The vile breath from the hound made Percival light headed and produced a weak illusion of a beast with three heads ready to make Percival a delightful meal. A cracking of a rib brought him back from the brink of death. The hell hound was a large imposing beast with red eyes, sharp fangs and vile breath. It pressed on Percival's shield, the only thing keeping it's drooling mouth from consuming Percival like a smoked ham, as it snapped many times. Percival barely managed to keep himself alive, but with a sudden surge of defiance he shoved the beast back, throwing it back enough of a distance for Percival to climb back to his feet. He rolled over to his mace as the hell hound chased him down and with a quick spin bashed the beat in the face as it leapt in midair. The hound coiled back, jaw dislocated, but Percival charged forward beating the beast down in cold blood.
Percival felt blood run down his head and breathing became ever more painful.
Crap, my ribs must be broken,
Percival thought to himself as he grimaced in pain. He had to reason with the pain, as another group approached him. Walking skeletons. Just what Percival needed. The group attempted to surround him, but Percival was running on fumes. He swung violently, the mace crushing the heads of the various skeletons before him. One after the other, the mindless grunts fell before Percival. But fatigue soon had its way with him. Out of breath, Percival barely dodged the slash of a skeleton, his face ultimately scarred on his right temple. Blood clouded his vision and he fell back, losing his once impressive strength. The skeleton stood over him, spear drawn back. Percival tried to lift his cumbersome shield to defend, but he had no strength. No more resolve. All the self doubt that gathered over his life amounted to this moment of weakness. This moment of defeat. There was no hope to come back from this. Percival had met his end. At least, he would die in battle. Maybe in Percival's death, his brother would finally miss him.
But then again, as if Andal himself willed it, the skeleton froze and crumbled into a pile of bones before him. Percival willed himself up to a seating position, confused at what had occurred. "Strange that a 'damsel' would save a knight in this situation," an elven focus said from behind.
"I owe you one…Crystia."
"You can repay me later," she replied coming to his aid, helping the wounded Percival up.
"That is assuming we can get ou-" Percival's quip was cut off by a vicious roar. It was the lumbering beast that led the horde. If he could afford to be sarcastic for another moment, he would. But fear had other plans for Percival. As the creature brought with large fleshy arm down for a crushing slam to the ground, Percival pushed Crystia away as he fell back, clumsily dodging the attack. The beast towered over them both, with Percival's fair sized stature barely coming up to the beast's waist. He was a giant, but slow. Maybe that could be their advantage. "Crystia what spells do you go-" Percival was knocked back the fat beast with utter ease, his equipment luckily enough falling only a few feet beside him. His vision blurring and his body battered, Percival was conscious enough to bear witness to a tragedy. Crystia did her beast to fend the beast off, using all forms of magic to slow the monster down. The beasts strength was too vast, able to resist the power of Crystia with seemingly great ease. With a straight shot due to the body of Crystia, the fist of the beast impaled the elf mage, ripping her entrails out of her body. Crystia's body limped to the ground, nothing more than a bloody mess for the monsters to clean up.
Percival struggled to bring himself to his feet, for both physical and now emotional trauma had affected him now. He had witnessed the death of a comrade and the realization of facing a powerful beast in his condition planted a great fear in him. Not to mention, the wave of beasts that had surrounded him and his comrades were undoubtedly having their way with them.
But then a wave of energy swept through the battlefield. Many of the creatures were turned to ashes, utterly obliterated from the spell. Percival was confused, bewildered. He turned around to see what was the godsend. It was a woman in the distance. She appeared to be larger than most, but Percival's vision was weakened from the blood loss. Her faint voice filled the air: "Get your bloody arses up here! The next wave is coming soon!" As she collapsed, Percival turned around and saw the fat beast that had killed Crystia still standing before him. The great wave of magic slowed him down, but could not kill such a great monster. It roared again and the woman's words were true. Another wave was upon them. Was the fat beast leading them here?
"ROLAND!" Percival called. "We need to take down the fat one! Get over here! NOW!"
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