Aerion [IC] Rated M
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April 11th, 2013 (10:34 AM).
Percival and Roland Grey- Necromancer's Lair, Ryuuse, Shinguo
"It seems our mages are a bit more interested in fighting our undead comrades." Roland stated, replying to the woman knocked on the ground earlier. He turned to his brother Percival, who stood close enough to him to be able to lower his voice to the point where he was nearly whispering. "How familiar are you with magic?" Roland asked him, looking around anxiously as the hordes of the undead slowly began to descend upon them.
"Like how it works or how to use it?" Percival asked his brother, griping his mace tight.
"I am more interested in it's derivations. I was thinking: The Necromancer has revived every one of these beings with his own magic, correct?"
"I thought as much. So I imagine that his power still flows inside them all as we speak. In a way, they are still a part of him, a part of his being, and he is the head. I wonder, if we remove the head, shall the rest follow?"
"In theory, I suppose that would work. They have to be powered by something. Perhaps there is a magic connection between the master and the minion. It is the best chance we got of getting out of here," Percival said, shrugging his shoulders. Reading magical books were the least of his pleasures. He much preferred Ethorian history.
"Well, tis worth a try." Roland stated. He breathed in deep, placing his helmet cover over his face in preparation. "Let us cut a path to him. These heathens cannot match the power of House Grey!"
The two brothers charged forward at the undead horde before them, Roland branding his shield and sword while Percival waved his mace with aggressively. There were more demons than in the town below, but they appeared to be weaker, more intending to overwhelm with numbers than strength. Roland charged forward, swinging his large sword, decapitating one demon with the start of his swing, and ending it by cutting a second demon's head in half, revealing a rotting brain. As more demons sprung at him from behind, Percival cleaned up nicely, smashing in their skulls with a single, mighty swing of his mace. They fought well together, an stark contrast to their relationship off the battlefield.
The two took turns watching each other's backs as they slayed the creations of the Necromancer, the fiends of hell. With every being slain, they approached closer to the iron throne, and the dark mage who sat upon it. As Roland brought his sword upon an undead creature, whose skin was branded with marks as if it were roasted alive in a previous life. His cut sliced through the top of his shoulder, cutting into the his rib cages and through the top of his hip, effectively separating the abomination in half. Using the momentum of the cut, Roland kept going, bringing the sword down all the way to the ground, and then swinging at the next closest undead, who was to his right, getting caught by the swing of his sword through the chest, opening the creature open and causing blood to spill across the armor of the Ethorian knight. Percival, who was now to Roland's left, decided to impale his next victim in the face, catching the demon with a sharp end of his mace, the weapon sticking into what was left of the brain of the undead demon. The mace dug in far enough to be attached, and, with as mighty a heave as he could muster, he carried his mace (with the demon still attached) and swung at the next demon, who collapsed onto the ground after being hit with the mace-attached demon. Roland took this moment to impale the fallen being, ensuring it's return trip to Infernum.
With a bloody path of undead slain monsters in front and behind them, they were only a few paces from the Necromancer. Hoping the other knights and Percival would be able to hold off the rest of the undead, Roland decided to make his move towards the Necromancer and test his steel against him. With Fortis' guidance and his own personal skill, he was confident he would be able to bring down the dark mage, and free this land from his evil, for the Knights of Ekilore, but more importantly, for House Grey and Reigncliff. He brought his sword up, now only a few paces between the Necromancer and Roland.
"You pretentious little human. You think because you can chop down some brainless creations of mine you suddenly think you can fight me?"
"I will do more than fight you, you malevolent carrier of sin. I will kill you."
Sensing the imminence of a fight, the Necromancer rose from his iron throne. The Necromancer was nearly a head taller than the courgeous Ser Roland, looking down at the knight with his glowing eyes that would bore holes into a lesser man. "Kill me? If I had a solider in my army for every time I heard that one. Oh wait, I do," the Necromancer said, laughing as he picked up his staff, striking Roland across the face with a swift strike. Roland met the strike with his sword, and the two clashed for moments, before he broke off, and brought his sword around for another attempted swipe at the the torso of the Necromancer. Again, the dark mage blocked with his staff, and the two found themselves clashing on consecutive strikes, each trying to disarm or bring as much harm upon their opponent as they can. Roland noticed that with every strike his sword landed upon the staff, an aura of magical energy dispersed from the weapon, indicating what he believe was a large amount of energy within the staff. He confirmed this again as they clashed numerous more times, each time resulting in a spark or outflow of some residue enchantment. As the two went in for another clash however, Roland was caught off guard as the Necromancer released a powerful dark spell from the tip of the staff, the dark energy blast catching him on his shoulder and forcing him back, the knight gritting his teeth in pain as the attack passed through his armor and struck at his naked skin, and perhaps inside of it as well. He wasn't quite sure how magic affected the human body directly. At least, not one so mystical. All he knew was he felt the pain that resulted, the effect similar to a combination of a deep bruising and burning sensation that resonated from within the afflicted area, rather than on the surface.
The pain was potent, but it was enough for him to ignore and continue the fight, but it unfortunately wasn't enough for him to continue wielding his shield in that arm. He dropped it to the ground, the large chunk of steel echoing even among the filled room of dastardly foes. "You are certainly resilient. Most of my victims cried in pain after experiencing that spell," the Necromancer commended Roland. Sadly commendations rarely win battles.
"I am not most men," Roland replied, doing his best to ignore the pain that came from his shoulder, as he gripped his sword with both hands tightly. Without much hesitation, Roland charged back towards the Necromancer, only to find the new separation between them enough for the Necromancer to take advantage of the distance and begin summoning incantations for other magic spells. He shot off another dark bolt of energy from the tip of his staff, Roland only narrowly avoiding it with a roll to his side, unfortunately on putting weight on the shoulder he had previously injured, which caused him to momentarily pause after the roll. The Necromancer, however, did not hesitate as he continued to unleash more dark spells at the injured knight, this time in bulk. Roland quickly moved to avoid, escaping the cluster of magic missiles, rolling on the ground to narrowly dodge each one.
Roland picked up himself off the ground, his breathing more swallow as fatigue crept in. He had spent much of time dodging ever since the first attack, and his shoulder still stung in pain. It felt as if acid had penetrated the flesh and the wound slowly festered. Showing weakness at this point would be fatal, so Roland continued to hide the pain and charged forward, this time with more intensity. Roland swung his sword with both hands, adding speed and power to each blow. The Necromancer was forced to step back, losing the ground he had controlled for so long. With a quick slash to the head, the Necromancer felt his face being cut, with Roland finally drawing blood. In a fit of anger, the Necromancer clubbed Roland in the head with his staff, knocking the knight back. Roland swung widly, missing the Necromancer completely several times before the Necromancer demostrated an ability unexpected for a thin old man. He parried one of Roland's attack, grabbing hold Roland's injured arm. Then a wave of black lightning coursed through Roland's arm. The pain was sharp, intense and the roars of pain were maddening. A moment of mercy, or perhaps arrogance, made the Necromancer let go with Roland dropping to the ground.
As Roland fell limp, the Necromancer suddenly found himself hunching over in pain. Behind him was the other Grey. The forgotten child. Percival. He stood over the Necromancer, covered in the blood and guts of the Necromancer's creations. "Another 'brave' soul coming to die. What is it with you humans and craving death?" The Necromancer said as he picked himself up from the ground.
Percival didn't bother returning a response. All he was doing was buying time. Percival stepped forward and swung his mace, keeping the Necromancer from gaining any solid footing, blocked any strikes with the staff with his large shield. However, Percival was getting tired, lacking the endurance of a true solider. His mace and shield were heavy and with every exchange of blows, Percival's muscles grew more and more fatigued. A strong spinning attack, amplified by a surge of magic knocked Percival back, his mace rolling away from him. The Necromancer rose his staff above the fallen Knight, a ball of green energy collecting at the bottom of it. It looked like acid, a comparable spell that was used on Roland earlier. As the Necromancer plunged the staff down, Percival picked up his shield blocking the strike as well as he could, but it burrowed through the shield and missed his head by mere inches.
Percival kicked the Necromancer back, using what little strength he had left. Percival, armed with his lackluster shield trying to use it as a weapon, but the Necromancer soon used a spell that knocked the shield away with a gust of wind. The Necromancer charged another spell, gathering the energy in the staff. It looked like a dark stormcloud was gathering at the end and Percival, unarmed was standing in the way of this spell. As the Necromancer prepared to fire the bolt of energy, he found the spell suddenly dissipate in the air through small scraps of magical remains. This was the result of a large slash upon the staff of the Necromancer, cutting cleanly through the magical item and separating it into two pieces, on end which was held still by the Necromancer, and the other which now clanked onto the ground. Separating the two was a bloody sword, connecting to the arm of the bloodied and broken Knight of Ekilore, Roland Grey, who panted heavily as he and his blade stood between the two separated pieces of the staff, and in between Percival and the dark mage. In direct reaction to the severing of the staff, the host of undead abominations which occupied the room seemingly lost their form, their life and anything else that the Necromancer had crafted. Their souls or spirits left their bodies, dragged back into the pits of Infernum that had spawned them. Their bodies crumbled into piles of flesh and bones. The energy needed to sustain such a vast but lifeless army was contained in the staff, now broken into pieces.
"No..." the Necromancer whispered. "No. No! No!" In a fit of rage, the Necromancer unleashed a wave of energy, knocking the Grey brothers away from him. He now stood alone on the plaform, near his throne, cradling his broken staff like a man admiring his precious treasure.
"Well..." Roland began, panting on the ground where the Necromancer knocked him down. He clung his sword loosely, examining the effects of the staff's destruction. "While I can honestly say I was not expecting that, I shall take any advantage I can get against this heathen." He positioned his sword onto the ground by its sharp end, using it as a means to help support himself back onto his feet. The other knights, now free from the burdens of fighting the undead, were hopefully ready to finish the Necromancer once and for all.
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