>>2765962
>66<DC80. Stealth Failed!

You look over the brightly smiling young boy, the carved wooden warrior in his hand extended for your inspection. The chatter at the long table continues, the villagers laughing as the toothless elder regales them with some surely lewd story from his youth. You cant help but smile and extend your hand, the boy depositing the toy with no hesitation. He points at it and proudly exclaims
"Pa carved it when m'brother Karish was born't! Said 'e was gonna be big an' strong! But pa says ol'Barbas came down an' saw Karish out playin' and took'im! Broke Pa's front teeth out when he asked for Karish back! Ma still gets sad about Karish sometime but she says shes happy cause shes got me an' she just needs th'one boy anyhow! D'you have boys? I bet they'd be big cause you're big."

You inspect the carved toy, running your thumb across the worn smooth features that once stood out in rough relief. The sword arm is slightly cracked, repaired with glue likely made from goats hooves. From the attention to detail and the care devoted to maintaining the toy, you can tell it was made with love, not idle hands. Giving rhe boy a large smile, you pass back the toy and reach out, patting the boy on the head hard enough to nearly jar his neck
"Its a fine toy. Reminds me of one my... father made for me when I was young. Im sorry about your brother, I know Barbas and im sure he had good rea-"

"PA! The Big man says he likes my toy! He really likes it! PA! PA!"
The boy cries out happily, cupping his mouth for his voice to cut through the chatter. Almost as one, those seated at the table turn in confusion to look at you, a spoonful of stew held in your hand and a mug of cider in front of you. You shake your head in embarrassment and momentarily consider wringing the boys neck like a chickens when a large, mustachioed man with the burly arms and blackened nails of a tree feller stands, smashing his cup down and glaring at you.
"Who th'bloody fuck are you an' what do y'think yer doin' at our table? An' talkin' to M'boy?!"

Pythe and Heaj make as it to speak up but the large man plows on, his shouting revealing a mouth missing several front teeth. Veins stand out in his neck and temple as be swings his legs out, stomping towards you quickly.
"Ya bloody deaf? I asked ye a question ya son of a ogres whore! I don't know ye an' I dont like ye speakin' to m'boy! Are ye a Wolf? Are ye?! Ya ain't takin'im! He's all we got left!"

>what say?
>What do?

>>2766060
"I am Magnus, I shall not take the child so sit down, I am simply enjoying the meal."

>>2766060
*Sips more cider* "Calm down Thrall"

>>2766060
I'm not here to take your son, but I do have some good news if you're interested.

>>2766060
"Thrall or wolf, we all bleed for the crag. Not here to take your boy though. Came here to see my people, hear of their lives. The ledgers will show the fate of your boys, you will know." Stand up and crack your neck. "Next time Barbas comes, offer yourself instead. When you are done; return to your family, tell them of it." Pull him in close like only a giant fucker can. "If you need so badly to bleed tonight, the pits are far but the fields will do, other warlords would find shame in combat with a thrall. I have none."

>>2766073
>>2766179
Going with these two because I like them.

Roll me 1d100+10 for your intimidation

>>2766060
Finsh our drink in one go
And tell him to clame his tits
We wore just walking and heard all the good chear and thouht we would cheack it out.
I have no interest in the boy
Call our birdy in

Rolled 65 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2766305

Rolled 20 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

Rolled 89 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2766305

>99>DC65. Excellent success!

You shrug, chewing a chunk of well salted mutton you fished from the bottom of your bowl, washing the mouthfull down with a swig of watered down cider. You focus on your meal and ignore the mans bluster, only speaking after a moment of thoughtful munching.
"My name is Magnus. Arch Magnus. Warleader of the Crag Wolves. Beneath only Throth himself. Calm yourself thrall, if I wished to take the boy I would be simply walked up and claimed him."

Shocked and amguisher gasps echo up as those at the table realize who you are and what your station means. They have snapped at a dog larger than themselves and are only know seeing the bared fangs. But the drunken logger feels no fear, overcome with fatherly rage, the loss of his elder son and his shattered teeth likely fresh in his memory.

"I don't give a flyin' fuck if ye was Vall himself ya ugly whoreson! Barbas took m'other boy! The one'e were owed! Y'got no right to my Logli! My family done bled enough! Five uncles! Two brothers! My eldest boy! Ye ain't takin'im! Not while im breathin'!"
The logger roars, spittle flying from his lips as he strides forward, grabbing your shirt in a stained and scarred hand. His bellow of fury quails as you simply reach up and grip his wrist in your good hand, his fingers turning white as bone pulling pressure is applied as you slowly turn and stand, towering over the burly man by easily two and a half feet. Your voice remains low as you lean forward, your eyes fixed on his as his face tightens in pain.

"Thrall or wolf, we all bleed for the crag. We all pay our due of blood. I've paid mine a dozen times over and still I gladly pay..."
You shake back your hair, revealing the grisly scar crossing your brow as you crank the pressure in your fist up, the bones of his hand audibly creaking under the strain. You lift your maimed hand into the firelight and slight gasps of shock echo around as the thralls take in the sight.
"As I said though.. Im not here to take your boy though. I came here to see my people, hear of their lives down in the valley. If you wonder after the fate of your family The annals will show the fate of your boys. Make the journey and tell Barbas I sent you. you will know and find peace in their lives or deaths"

You release the loggers hand as his son cries out in shock, realizing the peril his seemingly powerful father is in, your hand crashing out in a open palmed strike to the center of the mans chest, sending hin sprawling as if he were struck by a mule.
"If you wish so badly to fight, the next time Barbas comes, offer yourself instead of your villages due. You are old but you have fire... If you survive, return to your family, tell them of it."

>Cont

>>2766632
>Cont

Striding a step forward and planting your boot on the mans chest, you look down on him with a dangerous glint in your eye as he gasps for breathe, winded and now incapable of inhaling.
"Although If you need so badly to bleed tonight, the Pits are far but the fields will do. Other warleaders would find shame in beating a thrall. I have none. Especially not a drunkard who cannot hold his tongue"
You punctuate your words by grinding the heel of your boot into the mans sternum before releasing the pressure, stepping back and swiping your mug of cider from the table. After a hefty swing, you impassively watch the logger stumble to his feet, clutching his nearly crushed hand and cursing under his breathe.

He makes to step forward but Pythe grips him about the chest, hrrying forward with a pair of other men and pushing the burly man back. Pushing a palm against his chest he shoves a finger into the mans face, speaking low with all the authority the village leader can muster.
"Calm Yanno! CALM you drunken idiot before ya get us all killed! That man is a warleader. He's not some upjumped pup lookin' to strut. An insult to him is an insult t'the whole bloody Tribe! I know you miss yer son but if ya want t'watch the younger one grow then youll mind yer damn tongue!"

With a gesture, the pair of men drag Yanno backwards by the arms, his head hung low in shame as he realizes the enormity of his transgression. Pythe turns to you, holding both hands up palms outward in a show of peace, his bearded face tight with worry.
"I have t'pologize for Yanno. His temper gets th'best of'im sometimes. 'specially when he drinks. Misses his elder boy somethin' fierce an' that wound is still fresh. He don't mean nothin' by it... No offense given yer... Yer hugeness. Least not by us.... If y'must punish anyone, Let it be me"

You mull the mans words over as you stare into your cup, reaching over a pale and silent woman to refill it from a jug. Tossing back the weak cider in one gulp you sigh, droplets running down your beard.

All you wanted was a place to sleep.

>What say?
>what do?

>>2766635
I believe than man Yanno has been punished enough. I only require a place to sleep for the night. Can I use your barn? (we can use the pup as a pillow)

>>2766681
This but let's add.

We want reports of how the crops and wildlife are doing. Let's get accurate reports of the fruits of our labor. Straight from the source say like one a month or so. Also if any spirits are spotted and such. We need to keep track of what our sly little benefactor is up to.

>>2766698
And maybe inform them of them potential boon in crops and animals and general flora boom?

>>2766721
Don't want to scare them though. They are simple people and spirits might cause an uproar

>>2766751
I never said anything about spirits, but they will eventually take notice to the not so normal animals eventually.

>>2766766
Well the boon is from a spirit so I don't see how telling them about the boon is not telling them about the spirit that is creating an alter of sorts out in the woods

>>2766635
Laugh, laugh heartily, then get quiet, real quiet. "There was no transgression more than would happen among the Wolves. Drink and Grudge. Let it be, but mind my words. If any amongst you begrudges the blood tithe, go in the childs place; so long as the offer is not insult or desperation, we will take it." turn your back and look up at the moon. "Its late though, if you've a stable, or empty bed...actually empty. Don't go running around like mice. Mice do not give birth to wolf pups." Pause for a long moment and scratch your chin in thought "Also. The forest. A...friend. She dwells there, and for only the your company she would share a rich bounty. The young couple...they would do well to visit it during the day."

>>2766635
Welll then il be leaving you all
Enjoy your night and may many kids come to you.
Leave and go sleep outside

You cant help but grunt out a bark of laughter and shake your head, much to the shock of Pythe.
"He's been punished enough. If he can mind his tongue for the rest of the night... All I wanted was to see what the commotion was as I passed through and perhaps a place to sleep for the night."

Pythe and Heaj share a look of disbelief and shock before the former turns to face you, wringing his hands with a relieved smile on his face.
"Of course! Of course! A place t'sleep and a place at our table! Yer more than welcome to join us! Please, ill have Eyda get the bed ready and ya can have mine for the night!"

You almost laugh at the nervous, almost desperate hospitality before you realize this man is still immensely afraid of you. Instead, you smile and brush back your hair, gripping the clay mug in a relaxed grip as you wave away the offer.
"You're too kind... But I wasnt always a warleader. If I may sleep in your barn I will, I have no desire to out you from your bed tonight"

Wolna scowls at you despite the others at the table nodding in relief and appreciation of your humility. Her jowls quiver indignantly as she makes to stand and speak her mind but a stern hand on her shoulder from a weary looking man to her right pulls her back into her seat.

The newly sworn and soon to be married couple share a relieved look and you cannot help but imagine it uncommon for new brides to find themselves.... Loaned for the night. You've heard of some men taking liberties with thralls even if they sworn to another but you have no desire to sow ill will with these people tonight.

Heaj stands, lifting a cup to you and others follow his example, standing and turning to face you.
"We welcome you to join us Magnus. May your harvests always be heavy"

>Go get some sleep

>speak with the villagers

>speak with the new couple

>Call over your griffin

>Other

>>2766887
>>speak with the new couple
"The forest. A...friend. She dwells there, and for only the your company she would share a rich bounty. Young couple...it would do well to visit during the day."
>speak with the villagers
Look to Wolna "Woman. I cannot change the world, just this moment; speak your mind, clear heart, be done with it so you can know someone has heard you. "

>>2766851
Ah Fuck I didnt see this until after I posted. My bad anon .(

>>2766911
>>speak with the new couple
>"The forest. A...friend. She dwells there, and for only the your company she would share a rich bounty. Young couple...it would do well to visit during the day."
Definitely this

Then
"Now everyone don't be startled but I have a friend joining me. It would be best not to let any livestock wander to the barn". Then call over the griff pup. "Feel fortunate that you dwell amongst the Wolves, for we are mighty indeed". Then retire to get comfy with our overgrown pet.

>>2766887
Call over your griffin

>>2766887
Call Griff over. He needs to geniuses to people and taught who is not food. He has recently eaten so he should be fine.
He likes it when you rub his neck and chest.

>>2767197
*get used to people

>>2766911
I like it

Pythe nods frantically, wringing his hands as he does, a relieved expression coming to his face as he steps forward.
"Of course yer welcome to stay in the barn! Ill have some blankets brought out t'ya. The air is chilly down here at night"

You incline your head in thanks and finish off the jug of cider with three huge gulps, wiping your lip and standing.
"Thank you for your hospitality..."
Turning ti the new couple you incline your head once more, earning the gesture returned from the young man and a smile from the woman as you gesture towards the woods with an expansive gesture.
"A... friend of mine has taken residence in the IronWood grove near here. You will be pleased to see the effect she has on your crops and livestock. You two... You would do well to visit the grove in the daylight. She would appreciate the company"

Smiling at the confused expression on their faces you turn to the table at large and raise your voice, a clear and sharp whistle emerging from your lips before you speak.
"Do not be alarmed but ill have a companion joining me in the barn. You have no cause to fear him but it would be best to keep children and livestock from the barn tonight"

Before any of them can raise their voice in question, a ear piercing screech echoes out as powerful wingbeats signal the arrival of your griffin. The black plumage beast is like a shadow in the dark as it thumps heavily to the ground, sending the thralls shouting and stumbling back as it eagerly pipes forward, warbling curiously as it rushes to your side. You laugh, your voice echoing around the village as you pat and scratch the Griffin head and neck, grinning at the Thralls fear.
"Be thankful you serve the Wolves. We are mighty indeed. The beasts of the air and the land submit one by one to us."

Without waiting for a response, you make your way towards the barn, your griffin pup trailing at your heels. The table bursts into frenzied conversation behind you but you pat them no heed. Its an easy step for you over the wooden fence, the griffin hopping it like an ungainly cat, flapping its wings unhappily and eying the confused and frightened goats hungrily. At a stern word from you, it stays its claws and follows close, spinning into the barn and curling up atop a pile of fragrant hay rich with clover, long grasses and wildflowers. You chuckle at the beasts contentment, falling atop the pile yourself and using the griffins thickly cushioned side as a pillow.

It seems your dreams have gone too long without being touched by the Destroyer but it seems sleep is forced upon you" so swift and sudden its like a tide of black ink being poured over your head.

Behind the darkness comes...

>Rain. Dripping down your face like tears, like warm blood.

>Leaves. Ancient trees and curling vines like the skeletons of titans

>Fire. The air heavy with the scent of ash and burning flesh.

>The beat of drums and heady smoke, the chanting of a thousand tongues.

>>2767884
>The beat of drums and heady smoke, the chanting of a thousand tongues.

>>2767884
>>The beat of drums and heady smoke, the chanting of a thousand tongues.

Accompanied by these cool deep voice chorus like in the lord of the trings

>>2767884
>Rain. Dripping down your face like tears, like warm blood.

>>2767884
>The beat of drums and heady smoke, the chanting of a thousand tongues.

>>2767915
changing vote to support the masses.

>>2767884
>The beat of drums

>>2767884
The beat of drums and the chanting of a thousand tongues.

You sit against a carved stone seat, black stone padded with thick hides and piled high with the trophies of war. Skulls and crowns of broken kings, shattered blades and the fangs and claws of great beasts and terrible monsters. Gauntlets of black steel encase your fists, etched with runes and sigils in scrypt so fine and miniscule it resembles scratches and waves in the metal. Between your armored fingers is a helm of similar black steel, angled and horned like the skull of some monstrous demon. In battle, crimson eyes burn behind the metal, glowing like the pits to hell, the metal wrought in such a fashion that it reflects the true nature of the man inside of it.

It can't even come close.

Like a candle before an inferno, it can't even offer the barest fraction of your incandescent fury. An eternal boiling rage that is physically palpable like the heat from a forge. Like a bar of red hot iron held a hairs breadth from the skin, it is physically painful for those attuned to the other world to even be near you.

That is why this gathering is so impressive honestly, you think to yourself as you look up from the masterfully wrought helm and allow your eyes to focus through the haze of smoke and scented steam. Hundreds of shamans and acolytes line the walls and ascending rungs of a vast stone amphitheater, chanting in forgotten tongues, burning choking incenses and carefully crafted sliders on flaming braziers, adding their voice, their power to yours in a nearly unheard of ceremony.

In the center of the amphitheatre is a bed of coals, glowing blue white and tended by a quartet of men, bodies clad in oiled leather aprons, faces obscured by masks of carved wood, forging a blazing white sword with hammers the size of a mans head. Their blows slowly draw out the metal, sweat dripping from their skin in rivers of steaming droplets as each of the master smiths pours their decades of experience into the forging of this blade.

The smoke of the shamans offerings coils overhead like a serpent, a whirlpool in the air that slowly coils down into the incandescent blade, absorbed into the metal like blood into dry soil. The metal shimmers and sparks, wracked with forces both mystical and physical, drawn into both realms like a shadow with edges and point.

Star Steel, the metal that forged the weapons of the gods mixed with Red Iron, quenched in the blood of a great foe. You almost smile as your side twinges, a reminder of the final blow of that bloods previous owner. This weapons existence is an abomination, a union that should never exist. Able to cross the barrier into the spirit realm and strike a mortal blow against a spirits essence, this blade could spill the lifeblood of gods and mortals alike.

Your armored hand drifts downward to caress the worn and chipped grip of a....

>Write in Weapon. This is kinda important as it will be a relic.

>>2768243
>Judges 14:16
>When Samson arrived in Lehi, the Philistines came out shouting against him. And the Spirit of the LORD came mightily upon him. The ropes on his arms became like burnt flax, and the bonds broke loose from his hands. He found the fresh jawbone of a donkey, reached out his hand and took it, and struck down a thousand men. Then Samson said: “With the jawbone of a donkey I have piled them into heaps. With the jawbone of a donkey I have slain a thousand men.”…

>Write in Weapon. This is kinda important as it will be a relic.
The Spirit of an ancient dragon bound to a skull mace.

Ok guys. Do we want this to be a fuckhammer? A great axe? A sword? This is the ultimate weapon that we'll be searching for.

>>2768262
Or a powerful Cliff Jumper Spirit bound to a Cliff Jumper Skull. I don't know. I'm all for magical animal parts used as weapons like in monster hunter.

>>2768262
Interesting. How does the star steel come into play? That's an important part of the weapon

>>2768284
The Starsteel sword is whats being made at the moment. The thing biggus is touching at his side is something other than the Star Steel sword.

>>2768267
Actually no. This is the weapon that Vall used *Before* he got the fuckhuege ass raping sword. That is a entirely different monster. This is a powerful and ancient Relic, just not a super weapon

>>2768243
I can't really see him making a the weapon to slay gods a sword if he wasn't already using a sword. So I vote for some kind of 2 handed sword.

I vote for a
>axe hammer
A great axe on one side with the other side being hammer head. For both taking and krumping skulls.

>>2768289
>>2768294
Ah I see. Skull (Fuck)hammer it is

>>2768295
This is a good point but still skull mace

File: 4437895-7384203960-krato.jpg (275 KB, 900x1275)

275 KB JPG

If no to a skull mace or monster hunter like thing, then what about a big spoon?
No?
What about a pair of God of War like fuck huge cleavers? Some violently jagged edged twin cleaving weapons of hate to match his intense rage?

>Going to get some rest and pick this back up in the am with the most popular idea. You guys stay awesome!

>>2768295
supported. Basic bitch broadsword.
---
A chipped and worn broadsword, its edges no longer sharp; the blunt impact is more than enough to rip off limbs or heads.

>>2768297
This

>>2768243
A 2 handed sword

>>2768672
Well. I wouldn't mind this, so long as it's got some mystical monster parts on it. There needs to be more git crumpin weapons.

>>2768262
Yeah, that sounds appropriately metal.

>>2768297
What if the axe hammer krumping instrument was made of skulls itself?
Big main spikey horned skull with lesser Skulls. A piece of carved Ivory in the shape of a curved blade at the back or front of the skull depending on the number of spikes. Lots of runes and markings throughout the whole thing.

Big boned fuck stick made for crushing, stabbing and cutting. Glowing and making whaling noises because skulls.

>>2768893
*wailing not whaling
Though could any of you imagine? Whale noises no one has heard of before?

>>2768262
AxeAnon supports this idea. Bone maul? Hell yeah.

File: The flail.jpg (27 KB, 329x432)

27 KB JPG

>>2768243
Make way for a real man's weapon

>>2768297
I like this, I’ll support it

>>2768344
>>2768297
Changing my vote from broadsword to hammer axe.

>Bone HammerAx hybrid made from the skulls and claws of great beasts.

Armored fingers clench almost comfortingly around the worn grip of a weapon most would call nightmarish. Crafted from the leg bone of A monstrously large Drake, the larger end of the bone chiseled and carved into a sturdy hammer. It is heavy, sharply angled and perfect for crushing bone and armor. On its reverse side is a blade ground from one of the beasts terrible fangs. A curving black scythe forms the cruel axe blade, sharper than a razor and harder than any steel.

It has seen the deaths of kings, the champions of petty gods, upstart rivals and arrogant chieftains. It has felled mighty giants and crushed the horned skulls of the Wildfolk. It has ripped through armored ranks and sent legions of men fleeing in terror of the Great Warlord. It is The Fist of Death and you are the hand that wields it.

"Great one..."
Murmurs one of your attendants, a young man, his face adorned with lines of red and black tattoos, a curved blade through his belt and armor of iron scales across his chest. His words bring you from your thoughts and you shift your gaze to him, eyes glowing red for the barest of moments before you quell the rage within you. Your blessing and your curse... It must not be released now. Not amongst your people. Impressively, the youth doesn't shrink back, instead clasping his hands behind his back and nodding towards the frantically chanting and hammering shamans and smiths.
"The ceremony is almost complete. Soon, the weapon will be finished..."

You almost laugh, instead allowing a lip to curl for a moment before nodding. A 'weapon'... To compare this to a weapon would be to compare a toy sword to the hammer of a giant. Its almost laughable. This grand project, the culmination of years of effort and thousands of lives, it is retribution and justice given form. For far too long those on their lofty thrones have thought themselves invincible...

*KA-HOOOOOOM*

The amphitheatre shakes, dust shaking from the walls as some colossal impact rocks the entire mountain. Men fall and stumble, shamans drunkenly falter in their chant before troubling the weaving of the spell, stones the size of your fist fall from the ceiling as shouts of alarm and pain echo out from the vast network of corridors and tunnels around the vast cavern.

Behind you, your attendants, retainers and companions burst into commotion, shouting and shoving as they each make haste to secure the area and find the source of the immense impact. So intense is their babbling that you almost miss the rasp of steel on leather.

>What do?
>Roll 1d100, highest roll wins

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>2769178

Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>2769178
The sword is complete enough to function, let it drink the essence of men foolish enough to draw steel against you.

>>2769182
<forgot my text>
Reach out towards the noise and size it, then whisper "Pick a hole, or I shall make one for myself." in their terror and confusion snap the neck.

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>2769178
"Reveal yourself. I will flay you but keep you alive so you watch me consume whoever sent you"

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>2769178
Is there a traitor? We cannot chance it. Unleash the rage and whirlwind with the giant bone hammer.

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>2769178

>85

You dont even deign to turn, instead simply holding your helm in both hands and closing your eyes. When you speak, it is as if mountains of cold iron grind against each other, shedding rust and flakes of brutalized metal.
"Reveal yourself coward, who dares not face me in the field. I will not kill you if you do, only flay you living and cast your wretched husk on the one who sent you"

The would-be assassin falters, the scent of sudden fear filling your nostrils like burning meat. His zealotry outweighs his fear however and with a grunt, he seals his own fate.

"You die here blasphemer!"
You're sure he had ideas of bravery, a noble death after reaping your skull. A eternity of reward in the heavens of whatever arrogant deity he pledged his soul to. You're sure, in his mind at least, this suicidal act was the right thing to do.

He must be educated.

Whirling from your seat, the throne ringing like a bell as a corner of the obsidian throne is sheared away, razor fragments pinwheeling into the press of frantic warriors, attendants and shamans. The assassins blade rebounds, whirling around, a crescent of edged steel as you finish your turn, the young mans tattooed face twisted in a grimace, the designs themselves running like ink under a sudden sheen of sweat. Youre sure he was a well trained swordsman, hand picked for this task. Maybe a veteran or some simply talented initiate. You're sure he would prove most effective against some lesser warlord or petty noble, sending their heads and crowns home to his master.

His face twists in a rictus of fanatical fury as the wickedly edged blade sweeps over your head, nudged upward by a casual smack of your gauntleted hand to his wrist. The brittle crunch of bone is unfelt to the assassin and ignored by you. As the curved blade swings overhead, the assassin stumbles forward, caught off balance by the shifting weight. Lashing out with steely fingers, you wrench the young man around by his shoulder, your other hand punching outward with fingers curled like claws. Blood fountains from his mouth as your fingers punch through iron scales, leathers, skin, flesh, innards and back again. Your clawed guanlet emerges from his chest like some gruesome growth, his tattered heart clutched with crushing force between your fingers, weakly beating still.

Almost close enough to his cheek to brush against the skin, you growl out in a hoarse whisper.
"I may die here boy... But you'll go first"

Wrenching your arm free of his corpse, you lift the heart high, blood coursing down your armor like crimson rivers as you bellow out over the shocked masses, a single order.
"SIIIIIIIILENCE!!!"

And there was.

Your companions and generals stare at you in shock, the assasins body only know evident to them as almost as one, they draw their swords, casting about for any other would-be killers.

Jhungar, former chieftan of the Ice River Clans, steps forward, greataxe gripped in fingers as thick as a mans arm.

>Cont

>>2769768
>Cont

"Vall... Great one... The Spire is under attack.. They... They have broken through the outer defenses. I must join my men. They need me."
His scarred and bearded face is wracked with silent fury. Many of his sons and grandsons were out there, somewhere, fighting a foe they all feared.

Thraine, Wolf Lord of the East, draws his sword, a great cruel black bladed greatsword and growls through his stylized helm, a slavering wolves head.
"The Wolves of Vall are ready, Great One. Give the word and we will fall upon them"

Hjalkyr, blinded seer of the Star-Speakers reaches out a frail hand, her voice quavering as her very essence is abraded by the proximity. Heedless of the countless blades around her, she grasps your armored wrist, shaking her head.
"You must not allow the ceremony to be disrupted, Father of Warriors, this is the only chance we have of finishing."
Her skin blisters and smokes, your essence anethema to her but she hangs on heedless of the agony.
"Hold them back, king of kings."

>Allow Jhungar and Thraine to lead their collective forces forward or keep them in the Spire?

>What do the sentries say? Who assailed the spire?

>Fetch me Fury. I ride with the vanguard.

>Man the defenses. Make them pay for every inch

>Hold the defenses here. This ceremony... The weapon, is all that matters

>Other

>>2769770
>Fetch me Fury. I ride with the vanguard.
keep them in the Spire
Even if they some fall me one of you must take the godkiller and finsh what we have stared

>>2769770
>Fetch me Fury

Allow Jhungar to join us. Trust the Wolves of Vall to ensure the Ceremony remains uninterrupted. They all know the stakes.

>>2769800
Support
Jhungar and Vall ride out. Thraine stays to ensure the ceremony is uninterrupted.

>>2769770
>>What do the sentries say? Who assailed the spire?

I see no reason this cannot be asked in conjunction with:
>Fetch me Fury. I ride with the vanguard.

>>2769770
>Hold the defenses here. This ceremony... The weapon, is all that matters

>Fetch me Fury

You cast aside the pulped and tattered heart, stepping over the corpse of the fallen assassin like so much discarded rubbish. Your generals watch you approach apprehensively as you take the blackened helm in both hands and slot it over your head, the metal embracing you more closely than any lover. It was her final gift to you and it has never failed you. With the embrace of the helm, you feel the red mist edging in from the corner of your vision, that desire to rend and maim welling to the surface as you stand before them, clotted chunks of gore dripping from your armored fingers.
"Thraine... Hold this chamber. You and the Wolves know the importance of this ceremony. I put my faith in you."

The plate clad warrior clasps his sword arm to his chest, inclining his head and accepting your order without complaint. A wolf in battle but ever the faithful hound.
"As you order Great One. They will not pass while we breathe"

You do not doubt the sincerity of his pledge and you nod, the metal of your armor warping and shifting slightly as the flames of your rage grow higher, feeding on themselves like starving serpents as you turn to Jhungar, the hulking chieftan nearly flinching back as the full force of your attention is brought to him.
"Jhungar. Gather your warriors. You will ride in the vanguard"

Turning to face the chamber, you draw in breathe, bellowing out
"BRING ME FURY!"

Perhaps some initiative taking warrior had anticipated your shout of command because as you step out from the amphitheatre, the bright sunlight nearly blinding you, you can hear the monstrous beasts bellow of bloodlust. From the sky scraping peak of the Spire, the mountain city-fortress excavated by legions of collared thralls, you can clearly make out a host without count assaulting the walls. Flames and smoke coil upwards as armored figures clamber over ladders and through shattered holes in the walls. Already blood stains the stone red, corpses piling high as your warriors spring to the cities defense, the combined might of three hundred clans and tribes a force as mighty ss any army.

>Cont

>>2770288
>Cont

With the crack of claws on stone and the heavy growls and footfall, Fury is led to you, the stout chains about his neck looking frail as spiders silk against the corded muscle and tendon visibly bunching beneath the mighty War-Beasts flesh. Likely either the last of his kind, Fury is a strange creature, standing twice the height of the largest horse, nearly the size of mammoth. Hooved rear legs and clawed forelimbs support a body that is equal parts bull and lion, the short grey fur marred by scars that twist and curve in jagged slashes through the thick hide. Horns the length of swords curl from a short snouted head, small ears twitching as Fury gnashes thick and sharp fangs and crushing molars against a bit made of barbed chain. Black eyes, like orbs of obisifan roll to focus on you, the beast snorting as it sniff the air with a wet snuggle, red tongue lolling as it snorts hungrily.

Swinging yourself into the saddle you take up the chain linked reins and draw your weapon, the Hammers weight reassuring in your hand. Levelling it at the host assailing the Spire's walls, you lift your voice high.
"Sons! Sons of Vall! They come to spill our blood. They come to burn our city! The Free City! Let us burn them instead!"

Wheeling Fury around, you call out to Jhurgar, the warchief mounted atop a Boar easily the size of a Destrier, a helm made from a giants skull pulled over his face. A host of nearly four hundred men follow him, mounted atop boar and goat, horse and wolf.

"Jhurgar! Form your riders up behind me! We meet them head on! RIDE TO GLORY! RIDE! Hah!"
Digging your heels into Fury's flanks, you spur the massive beast onward, blood and foam churning from his maw as he takes off at a full gallop, Jhurgar and his company following close behind.

>Head straight to the gates. The fighting will be thickest there.

>Push through any resistance and link up with your beleagured forces

>Take the walls. Your archers and siege crews are being slaughtered.

>Search for whatever caused that impact... No mortal weapon could do that.

>Other

>>2770292
>Search for whatever caused that impact... No mortal weapon could do that.
We're likely to find who's behind this transgression there as well.

what was DarkSky's armor rating?

>>2770329
Darksky isn't armored. You CAN armor him if you want

>>2770292
>Search for whatever caused that impact... No mortal weapon could do that.
We will chop the head from the snake and burn its stump. The body will writhe for some time, not understanding that’s it’s already dead, but it will not last.

>>2770388
We do have 50L of battered plate armor...

>>2770388
How come he wants armored? You're telling me that Lancer leader didn't armor his assets?

I could have sworn he had armor.

>>2770292
Maybe our follower can split his forces between the wall and pushing to meet the main forces. We can crush our way straight to the gate.

We can get some scouts to investigate that shock thing then report back to us.

>Look for the Weapon that caused the explosion

>Roll me 1d100. DC70. Bo3

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>2770596

>>2770596
Call me champion of man

Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>2770596

damn

>>2770292
>>Search for whatever caused that impact... No mortal weapon could do that.

Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>2770596
Rolling

Can't find it. Guess we can split our forces between the walls and the fodders.

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>2770596

>>2770613
We go to thr gate and other go help the siege crews

Close but Vall is still disappointed

>>2770695
Vall did nothing wrong, but he's disappointed in us the players for our shitty rolls.

>65<DC70. Slight Failure! The weapon eludes you!

You rein back Fury as you turn a corner in the vast slowly angling ramp leading up to the peak of the Spire. A vast crater is gouged into the mountainside, spikes of semi molten rock ejected from the sides of the rounded hollow like a stone dropped into a pool of half cooled wax. The heat of the near molten and glowing stone is palpable even from near fifty yards away, even through your armor. At the edges of the destruction, carbonized corpses stand like statues, frozen in the moment their lives ended, ashes and glowing embers falling from their charcoal flesh.

Jhurgar curses, his boar snorting uneasily as it shows away from the inferno heat.
"What...what could do this Vall? What weapon could do this?"

You jerk the reins in your fist, pulling Fury around to look out over the city. Fires rage throughout the ringed walls, each tier aflame in scattered spots. Towers crumble and fall, battered by stone and bolt. Walls shake and crack, pounded by rams and beasts of war. The host beyond your walls has arrayed enough force of arms against you to level a mountain range but no weapon of mortal design has the range to strike the Spire itself.
"I do not know Jhurgar... Some foul sorcery, a servant of the petty gods... It could be a dozen things or one I know nothing of... My eyes tell me nothing"
You growl, digging your heels into Fury's flanks. The mighty Warbeast snarls as he skirts the edges of the destruction, Jhurgar and his host following close behind.

>A distance beyond the walls

Kynath stands atop a platform of finely wrought whitewood, delicate golden filigree blessing the material. Borne atop the backs of a hundred servants, the platform is the perfect spot for the chosen warrior to oversee the destruction of this heretical city. He smiles as he runs a armored hand along Thunders Fang, the elegant spear glowing slightly after the massive discharge of energy that shook the entire mountain.

The pale white spear, wrought from neither iron nor steel nor wood nor bone is edged with a blade that diverges into two seperate points, a orb of blue crystal held at the base of the blades, shot through with shifting threads of white and gold. A gift delivered by the Lord of the Sky, the great and powerful Thyrakos, Father of Storms.

Hefting the weapon high, he laughs in exultant glee as the orb begins to glow, the weapon charging itself directly from his divine patrons essence. Static flashes arc between the plates and angles of Kynath's armor, filling the air with ozone stench as he bellows out for the vast army of the faithful to hear.
"Watch oh brothers and sisters! Watch as The Lord of Storms lays low these Heretics and crushes their city like a castle of sand!"

>Back in the Spire
>Cont

>>2770716
>Cont

You allow Fury his head, the Warbeast bounding along at speeds only the fastest of horses could hope to match, skidding around turns and corners with such speed that his claws leave gouges in the stone deep enough to trap a wagon in. All around you, as far as you can see, the sky is smoke and flame, the great flying beasts of your army clashing with what looks like men mounted atop winged stress, arrow and spear and claw and talon shedding blood in that lofty battlefield. Through one rung of the city and down into another you ride, the scattered streams of your warriors and fighting men joining together into a river of swords and spears that parts before you with a cry on ten thousand tongues.
"Vall! Vall! Vall! Vall!"

War has come to your people and you must ride forth to greet it, no matter the cost.

>Join the heaviest fighting at the gates. Crush them there and you can begin securing the city

>Smash through any resistance and meet up with Jhurgars men. You can use their WarBeasts.

>Lead your men onto the walls, knock down their ladders and burn their towers.

>Other

>>2770718
>Smash through any resistance and meet up with Jhurgars men. You can use their WarBeasts.

>>2770718
>Join the heaviest fighting at the gates. Crush them there and you can begin securing the city
Gove orders to burn the walls

>>2770718
>Smash through any resistance and meet up with Jhurgars men. You can use their WarBeasts.

>>2770718
>Join the heaviest fighting at the gates. Crush them there and you can begin securing the city
time to inspire

>>2770718
>Lead your men onto the walls, knock down their ladders and burn their towers.

We must impede more breaches into the fortress! The advantage of walls makes any men worth ten of the enemy

>>2770744
That's a fair point. Once they are over the walls, their archers can rain down upon our people as their raiders defend and scale down into the city.

Switching my vote to defending the wall. We going in Trump style.

>>2770744
>>2770752
>You have to go back
Support. Secure the walls then we can make a push out of the gate.

>>2770774
This sounds like a plan. Also order somebody to look for the weapon that attacked us.

>Take the walls back
>Roll me 1d100. First come first serve. Lets see how bad it is on the walls

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>2770819

>34. Not looking good.

The walls of the Spire's outlying city are high and strong, built on the backs of thralls taken in war and given as tribute. The top of the walls is wide enough for ten mounted men to ride abreast and do so at a full gallop. Fury smashes through a abandoned wagon like a stone from a catapult, sending fragments flying like splinters. You look about, the struggles at the gates a whirlwind of activity, men and beasts on both sides clashing with animals fury, spilling blood with such force it hangs like a red mist over the conflict. It pains you not to ride into the carnage, to crush skulls and spill blood, to slay your foes and see them piled like stones in the riverbed. No matter how your rage urges you on, you force it down, looking upwards to the walls where hundreds of the enemy warriors have set upon your men from above, firing arrows and spears downward into the battle.

They must not be allowed to slaughter your men with impunity.

"Jhurgar! The walls!"
You snarl, your voice echoing unnaturallt in the twisted helm as you jerk on the barbed chains. The Chieftan seems to be considering objection for a moment before you bring your gaze fully upon him.
"Now, War Chief. Your brothers die"

Jhurgar swallows, his throat bobbing as he nods slowly
"Aye... Aye Vall, our brothers die. We must retake the walls. I am with you, great one."

You nod silently, wheeling Fury around to charge up the wide, curving ramps giving access to the walls, Jhurgar and his host following close behind with the thunder of hooves and claws. Your decision does not please him but he remembers the defiance of his former chief and has no desire to inflict that fate upon himself.

Fiery arrows arc overhead along with stones the size of a mans body, barrels of burning pitch and casks of jagged shards of iron. Warhorns blow, their deep brassy notes ringing in the air as men shout and yell, the warriors of Vall howling like wild beasts, legion assailing them chanting strange hymns as they fall upon your men.

Creating the wall and reaching its summit, you yank back on the barbed chain, cursing inside your helm as you take in the sight of ranks of armoured Spearmen, their heavy bladed polearms levelled in your direction, bow and javelins hefted behind the shield wall. More and more pour from the siege towers and ladders, taking up position as they pour fire down upon the city and slaughter your archers and sentries.

>You are opposed by 5 units of Spearmen and 3 units of Bowmen
>The enemy has entrenched themselves along the wall and formed a shield wall.
>You have 4 units of War Riders at your disposal.

>What Do?

>>2770852
Do we have powers we can use to break the shieldwall, and then change through it to slaughter all of them?

>>2770852
if they are lined up at the walls, instead of crashing in from the front, we skim along the side of the walls ourselves until we meet their forces. They will not be able to use the full strength of their arms in that kind of environment, and will be forced to either stay in a tight column, or break ranks to swarm around our invading lance.

I shall call this maneuver "Valls dick." We can endure the bowmen with heavy armor and shields of our own for those that have it.

>>2770852
“Jhungar! I will break their shield wall! Prepare your men to charge when the moment is right!”

Charge full force with Fury until we reach the shieldwall and then leap from his back over their lines. Then do what Vall does best.

>>2770867
No powers yet, just lots of rage and muscle.

Rolled 71, 70 = 141 (2d100)

>Full charge and break their lines, smashing from the edges of their formation before leaping into the fray from Fury's back.
>Roll me 2 seperate 1d100. Beat my rolls.

Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>2772072
damn. those rolls though.

>>2772079
Its ok. Vall has pretty hefty command bonuses that ill add to your rolls.

>>2772081
thank Vall for that.

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>2772072

>>2772072
RAWLIN'

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>2772098

>>2772105
see -> >>2772104

>>2772111
What ever do you mean?

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>>2772122
did you really think you could get away with that?

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>>2772126

CM/zhq/V x R74VA3mm
this is my otp now

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>>2772137
Delet dis

>Fearsome presence(-10 to enemy command roll.)
>Father of Warriors (+15 to all units directly under your command)
>Monstrous Mount (+10 to Charge Rolls, enemy is demoralized)
>Veteran Warriors (+10 to command roll)
>Fearsome Riders (-5 to enemy command rolls)
>21+10+15+10=57
>71-5-10=56
>57>56! Your men break the shield wall after vicious fighting

>Fearsome Presence (-10 to enemy CR)
>Brutal fighter (+10 to close combat rolls)
>Visage of Fury(-25 to enemy combat roll)
>Weapon Master (+15 to attack rolls)
>Unnatural Armor (-15 to enemy combat rolls)
>31+10+15=56
>70-15-25=35
>56>35. Vall lands like a meteor.

Writan

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>>2772193

>>2772160
wouldn't it shoot itself, or is that only if it's ATFawoo? >Thinking.png

"Forwaaaarrrdd!!"
Jhurgar bellows, spurring his boar along behind you as you kick your heels back, prompting Fury into a pounding run towards the column of armored infantry. Already arrows hiss overhead, clattering against stoneworks or sinking into flesh with howls of pain or animal bellows.

Hundreds of hooves and claws pound against stone as your charge along the walls. The Spearmen brace their square, polished shields against the ground, their heavy bladed spears leveled at your approaching warriors. Their bronze and gilded helms gleam in the light as they crouch behind the protective bulwark, sure in the strength of their shields and their gods protection. A rattling, roaring howl comes ripping from your lips as you spur Fury on, faster and faster, blood and slaver dripping from the beasts jaws as he lunges forward, outpacing even the fastest riders as he leaps ahead, his monstrous visage reflected in mirror sheened shields a moment before the Warbeast smashes into them like a hammer against dried clay.

With screams of agony and shouts of disbelief, men go flying like dolls. Limbs are torn from their owners, shields smashed into scrap, spears broken and sent pinwheeling like splinters under the might of Fury's blows. You swing downwards with your hammer, the carved bone crushing helms and rending armor, each blow spilling blood and ending a life. Fury roars in rage as a spearpoint punches into his flank, his thick hide preventing it from doing more than bloodying his coat. Snatching up the offender, Fury snaps his jaws shut around the mans torso, flinging him side to side like a hound with a rat with such force he simply rips apart.

With their shield wall disrupted by Fury's violent entry the Spearmen desperately attempt to pull back, to regain cohesion, to salvage their position. They are in no position to recieve a charge when Jhurgar and his host follow up behind you. The width of the walls prevents them from spreading out effectively on their mounts, many men dismounting to fight on foot. With spear and sword, axe and mace, your men set upon the invaders, pushing them back step by step, piling bodies on both sides like so much firewood. The hulking Warchief himself brings his stony-hided boar around in sweeping arcs, his hammer sending men flying with each blow.

Fury snarls, lunging at a knot of Spearmen and you use the beasts momentum, bringing your feet up under you and kicking forward. Inertia and inhumanly strong muscle work together and throw you nearly thirty paces forward, coming down feet first atop a enemy archer, the mans eyes wide in shock behind his bronze helm before your boot crushed his skull flat. Shouts of alarm echo out in some foreign tongue, the tone revealing their words as the Spearmen back away slightly, inadvertently giving you the room to reap their lives like a farmer with a scythe.

>Cont

>>2772307
>Cont

A near casual flick of your arm sees the hammers axe head buried in a charging spearmans skull, his weapon falling from nerveless fingers as you wrench it free. Brains and gore spatter the tan stone of the walls as you wheel, bringing your clawed gauntlet around in an arc that sees a mans throat ripped out all the way to his spine. Discarding the lump of flesh, you grab a spear mid-thrust, snapping its shaft with a chopping blow of your hammer. Flipping the substantially shortened spear in your hand, you drive it through the eye slit in a spearmans helm, kicking his body backwards with such force it bowls three of his companions off the edge of the wall.

"YOU THINK TO BURN MY CITY?!"
You roar, lashing out with your hammer, the blow sending a man flying over the wall in a limp ruin. Another smashing blow crushes a archers skull into the ruin of his chest, blood spraying into your eyes from the brutality of his death. The copper tang tingles your tongue, dripping down your helm and stinging your eyes as you rip into the unfortunate men like a wolf among sheep.

A particularly brave Spearmen draws a dagger, leaping onto your back and jabbing at the neck joint in your armor. His grimace of determination turns into a scream of agony as your armored fingers dig into his eye sockets, wrenching him downward with such force the front of his skull simply breaks away. These men are soldiers yes, brave and trained, but they are not warriors. They are children playing the game of masters and you must teach them the errors of their ways. Each movement you make ends a life, each swing of your hammer, each slash of clawed fingers, each kick and blow with your elbows. Each sends broken bodies tumbling, limbs flying, teeth clattering to the stone like hail. Spears glance from your armor, arrows miss their mark by inches, daggers and shortswords flex and chip before finding purchase in your iron skin.

That pounding roar in your ears rises like a tide of liquid fire, scorching you from the inside out. Each scream, each blow, each death bringing that apocalyptic blaze higher and higher. It roils within you like a serpent of coals, egging on your rage. It is a inferno that can never be quenched, not with a river of blood and an ocean of tears.

>Release your anger

>Wake up

>>2772310
>Release your anger
Slay these welps and let their blood fill your streets. Once the walls are secure, jump down from the wall to the thickest concentration of enemy man children. Their corpses will soften the fall.

>>2772345
>>Release your anger

Once everyone in the valley starts getting modifications from the close proximity of Cameera's influence, do you guys think Throth would be interested in planting a second blossom somewhere in the crag now that he knows of the effects?

>>2772310
>Vall Smash!

>release your anger

Like magma erupting from a fissure in the earth, like arterial spray from a slashed jugular, your rage speed forth from the ironbound prison you force it in daily. A red haze descends over your vision, obeucirong all but the next victim, all but the next attack. A wordless howl of bloodlust rips from your lips, no, not wordless... A single, screaming command.
"DIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

And so they do. Bloodily.

With the concept of pain and weariness far behind you, you are free to wreak your wrath upon these lesser men. Bone snaps like matchsticks, armor bends and tears like cloth under your clawed gauntlet, flesh is crushed to red pulp under the fury of your blows. Faster and faster you move, each powerful swing sending men flying, smashing back into their fellows or falling like ragdolls over the edge of the wall, those who live still screaming the entire way down. Blood splatters your armor, coating your hammer in a crimson sheen and dripping from your armor like scarlet rain.

With a swing of your fist, a section of chain becomes a makeshift flail, smashing men aside like twigs, crushing their bones and snapping spears. Ladders are pushed backwards as your men rally behind you, those unfortunate on them wailing like women before crashing down on the ranks of their allies, crushing scores of their fellows. Towers are set alight with cast torches, the wood dried and seasoned in the arid climate of the Spire, burning like tinder as the men trapped inside roast alive by the hundreds.

The scent of fear and blood and burning flesh, smoke and ash and violent death hangs in your nostrils like a heady perfume as you grip a crawling man in one hand. His moans of pain and pleas for mercy in his foreign tongue fall on deaf ears as you heft him high above your head, standing atop the battlements. The vast host arrayed against you seems to quail back as they take sight of you, the Warlord, the great Defiler and desecrator, the Blasphemer and Burner of temples. If your face wasnt locked in an animal snarl, you'd laugh at their impudent rage as you toss the wounded man over the edge of the walls.

"Gre... Great one..."
Jhurgar pants, his helm lost anf bearded face smeared with gore, standing a respectful distance away.
"We have pushed them back... The walls are clear for now. They wont have ladders back up here for a while yet. What do you order?"

>Say nothing, step off the edge of the Battlements.

>We must retake the gates.

>We must secure the walls. Get some archers and spears up here

>We must rejoin your men. They will help us break their line.

>Other

>>2772566
>other

>Rejoin your men. They will help us break their line.

Then

>Say nothing, step off the edge of the Battlements. A murderin' we go.

>>2772566
>Say nothing, step off the edge of the Battlements
>other
Point away towards his fighting men. We can do that much. Then step off the Battlements.

>>2772566
Tell him to rejoin his men and meet us out there. Then
>step off the edge of the Battlements.

>Step off the battlements
>Roll me 1d100. Bo3. DC75

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>2772649

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>2772649

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>2772649
Hard mode

>65<75. Slight Failure. Hard landing.

"Take your men. Rejoin with your host and push them back at the gates"
You growl simply, your voice hoarse and rasping, blood clinging to your lips like honey.

Jhungar blinks in confusion, the heat of battle muddying his wits slightly as he steps forward.
"Are... Are you not coming? Great one?"

You turn your head, fixing the hulking chieftan with a glare that fixes him in place like a gaffed fish. Its as if the fires of your rage are searing the flesh of your throat as you snarl out.
"No. I have other business to attend"

With that, you simply step off the battlement.

Like meteor from on high, like the hammer blow of a giant you descend with such force that the air whistles at the gaps in your armor, plucking at your limbs like a mischevious child as the ground and the teeming horde of foreign soldiers grows ever closer. You grit your teeth, clutching your hammer and impromptu flail in each hand as you fall, a single thought ringing in your mind.

This is going to *HURT*

And you are correct in that.

A impact so severe your teeth would shatter if they weren't clenched so tightly they nearly fuse under the pressure. Your legs almost buckle, driving you down to one knee as tendon pops and rips, muscle tearing and bone cracking under the titanic impact with the ground. The weight of your armor drives you nearly a full six inches into the ground, a footprint driven into the hard packed earth like the impact of a hammer into soft iron.

A plume of dust several meters high descends slowly, obscuring your presence from the surrounding legion of spearmen, their shields and spears leveled at you as they back away slowly, whispering in shocked tones as they realize that *THEY* must face your wrath directly. Blood trickles from your lips slowly as you rise, bone and battered joints creaking and cracking in distress. You will away the pain, feeling the agony drain away as your rage consumes it, feeding on it and growing ever higher. Your baleful gaze sweeps across the ranks of armored figures, looking over the soon to be corpses. Armor of bronze and gold and copper and steel, spears with heavy, angled heads, swords with curved, point heavy blades, axes with spiked and serrated heads and maces shaped like eagles heads. These men are well armored, well armed and well trained. The host of an entire nation put against a single city, against a single man.

Against you.

>Enraged Vall vs Children of the Stormlord, Legions I- VII
>What. Fucking. Do?

>>2772742
SPIN TO WIN.

>>2772748
This!
>>2772742
We have the one fuck hammer! Grab a guy by the ankle so we got two fuck hammers!

>>2772742
Show them their god is but a breeze in the face of the storm that is your fury! Crash through them with the force of a tidal wave, land hits that shake the men around them like their in an earthquake, roll over their lines with the concern a rockslide would show for the village nestled at the bottom of a mountain, burn them with your fury like the lava spewed from volcanos! We are Vall!

>>2772742
Talk smack how your going to make there so called god deep thort your sword
And of course just get in there and start pound away make your way over to the gates??
And of course thow fuckers around

>>2772758
>Beat a dude with another dude

>Whirlwind of death
>Roll me 1d100. Bo3. DC70

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>2772845

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>2772845

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Rolled 42, 10, 90, 100, 23, 22, 50, 6, 38, 14 = 395 (10d100)

>>2772855
Clearing away the evil of this thread.

Vall had as bad of luck as Magnus

Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>2772845

>>2772859
>100
What have you done?

>>2772865
DUBS NIGGAS

>>2772865
Beats the DC with dubs... Prepare for blood

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>>2772867
blessed the thread.

>>2772874
>>2772859
Hopefully you exorcised the digital dice. You averaged a 39 on a d100

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>>2772881

>77>70. Let them come!

For a single, fragile moment, the battlefield is almost silent. Arrows hiss overhead, trailing smoke and cinder. Stones tossed by catapults soar through the air, twisting and turning as they finish their fateful flight. Men and beasts, giants and ogres, great horned siege beasts and hairless mammoths mill about, torn from the wild and broken, reforged into weapons. The foreign soldiers surround you, their broken and crushed comrades scattered about from the impact of your arrival. Their eyes, black and brown and almond shaped behind their bronze helms are wide like frightened beasts as they shuffle about, none wishing to be the first to test you despite their faith.

You nearly smile as you straighten, cracked bone and torn muscle being forcibly mended by the sorcery of your armor. The last gift of your first love keeping you safe still... If you could not be her guardian, you would be her vengeance. Then and now.

Now and always.

With a blurring flash of motion, you are upon the enemy, your chain wrapped fist smashing out with such force you simply impale the first man you strike. The bronze and copper of his armor parting like cloth before your blow and catching on your forearm as you wrench back, sending him flying overhead as you lash out with your hammer, sending a knot of spearmen flying like toys.

A roaring swordsman charges you, his blade held high and gleaming in the light. It shatters like glass under your boot as you stride over his mangled corpse, lashing out with hammer and chain flail. Blood and brains splatter with every blow, crushed bone and crumpled armor crunching under your feet as you stride forward, the assembled legions of the Stormlord falling like saplings before an avalanche as you smash aside their puny attempts to rally against you.

A valiant wall of spearmen is smashed apart, blood and viscera spreading on the ground in a pool of crimson. Impaled on his own spear, their commander kicks and gurgkes weakly, his severed arms still clutching his sword

A charge of the bronze scaled infantry seeks to turn you back, to fell you under a thousand blades. You pile them high enough to cast shade on the hard packed and sun scorched earth, their blood flowing in rivers that splash against your ankles as you pass by.

Flinging the chain outward, the heavy iron hook at its end bites cruelly into the flesh of a armored horseman, snatching him from his mount. Those within reach must duck low or lose their heads as you pull. Heaving with a twist of your arm, you turn once, twice, three times, whirling the screaming man so quickly that when you smash him downwards into a knot of his countrymen, he simply splatters. Gore and entrails fall like thick rain as his body bursts under the impact

"WHO DARES CHALLENGE ME!?"
You roar, smashing your hammer downward into the skull of a charging axeman.

>Cont

>>2772999
>Cont

"WHO DARES ATTACK MY CITY?!"
You bellow, striking the legs from a fine, tan coated warhorse. Its bugling scream of agony is cut off by the wet crunch of its breaking neck as it plows into the ground at a full gallop. The unfortunate rider is thrown free, having plenty of time to realize his fate before he smashes into the hard earth with such force his skull splits open inside his dented helm.

Again and again you repeat your question and again and again you go unanswered. With each step you take through their lines, their assault becomes a defence. Frenzied charges become fighting retreats, those who once thirsted for your blood finding their hunger outmatched by your fury. Arrows fall from your armor like rain, their points curled and bent from the impact with the superior metal. Spears shiver and snap, swords chip and bend, numbing the hands of those who wield them.

Steam courses from within your helm, your eyes burning from blood and sand. Your mouth tastes of copper and salt. Your hand is locked in a unbreakable grip about your hammers shaft, the other trailing a length of chain thick enough to restrain a giant. You're sure to these false warriors, these gilded men you are the vision of their worst nightmare, a demon from the darkest hells. Behind you is a stretch of destruction near half a mile long, a path of screaming wounded, mangled and ruined corpses, fallen warbeasts and burning siege weapons that stain the sky with plumes of greasy smoke.

Ahead of you is a tall platform carved of finely wrought whitewood, decorated with golden filigree and delicate runes. At its peak is a nimbus of crackling light, a roiling mass of blue-white energy that pains the eye to look upon. At its center, a figure in strange and angled armor can be seen, holding aloft a staff or spear of pure light, its blade glowing so bright you can hardly see it.

Is this the commander of this petty army? This horde of fanatics that falls like wheat before a real warrior? Some mage? A upjumped sorcerer? You'll shove that staff up his a-

*KA-HOOOOOOOOOOOM*

A blast of heat and light so intense it crisps your skin beneath your armor, half blinding you even through the flesh of your eyelids. The shockwave batters you to the ground like a rockslide, crushing and burning you with such intensity you nearly howl with agony. But, after a heartbeat it is over, only the lingering heat and ringing in your freshly bleeding ears remaining as you roll to your feet, pushing yourseld upwards slowly as you cough out a lungful of smoke.

Looking back to the Spire, you howl with rage as you take in a glowing crater carved out of the mountainside, who knows how many innocents turned to ash in that moment. Blood and saliva drip from your lips as you stand, a wordless roar ripping free of your lips as you level your hammer at the enemy commander.
"YOUUUUUUU!!!! YOU DIEEEEEE HEEEEERREEE!!!"

>What do?

>>2773002
Climb up the tower, take the spear, and use it as a skewer from throat to groin on the commander. Discharge the spear and commander into the air, demand his legions bow before you or die by their own weapons. The Stormlord shall serve your apotheosis, and then you shall serve as his executioner.

>>2773002
Get close enough and whip the chain at the towers base. The Welp will come to us.

>>2773016
Nah nah. What you want to do is tear the head off of the commanders body and demand everyone withing hearing range to look. Once everyone sees the decapitated head of their dead leader, we then squewer the stump onto the end of the staff and fry or pop the skull with our artifacts magics.

THEN we get them to kneel to us.

>>2773016
Oh actually my bad. When you said discharge I thought you meant by throwing the corpse and weapon away. The weapon will make for a nice trophy.

>>2773002
Kill the people holding up the platform
Then we fight the mage
I want to distory his wepon befor we end up killing him

>>2773030
This though. Bring him to us. Collapse the tower with the chain whip.

>>2773002
>>2773016
>>2773034
Supporting

>>2773002
Can the number of Griffin pups, hatchlings and people who currently own griffins be added to the character sheet?

>>2773491
I dont think so since we only have one
The others are someone eils stuff

Rolled 43 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>Whip the chain at the supports for the mobile Altar, bring this whelp down to face you directly.
>Feat of Strength!
>Roll me 1d100+40. Beat this Roll pls

>>2773491
Yes I can. Im working on a "Crag Resources" sheet that will include Warriors, Thralls and holdings along with animal herds and material resources.

Rolled 15 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>2774614

Rolled 29 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>2774614

Rolled 19 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>2774614

Cursed, your new id is rather unfortunate. Fag

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>>2774670
Damnit 4chinz

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>>2774748
>Mfw I miss the rolls and the bantz.

>69>49. And down it comes.

With the battlesong of bloodlust and fury singing in your veins, spittle and blood trickling from your lips as your chest heaves, looking up at the gilded zealot and their abominable weapon. Your armor steams and pops from the residual heat, blood and chunks of flesh sizzling and smoking as the edges of your iron skin glow a dull red, searing the flesh below. Every ragged wound, every cracked bone, torn muscle and shredded tendon sings to you, a siren song that brings your rage welling to the surface in a howl of rage that sends dust and smoke billowing away from you in an explosion of pure animal fury.

Blood runs from your ragged lips, welling from your shredded throat as you continue your howl of rage, swinging the ruddily glowing chain in a great arc above your head. The heat of the arcane-blasted metal blisters and sears your fingers but you channel the pain into feeding your fury, stepping forward and swinging the chain in a great arc that loops around the base of one of the whitewood supports. The wood smolders and blackens, the chain digging into it as you haul backwards, your heels digging into the hard packed earth as you clench your teeth so hard they nearly shatter. A growling snarl crawls free of your ragged throat as wood begins to crack and warp, fissures running through the great beams as you pull with all your might. The platform begins to lean, shifting forward as with a sudden, snapping crackle, the beam shatters into splinters, the chain snapping backward to embed into the ground at your feet.

You leap backwards as the platform begins collapsing, engraved and gilded whitewood beams snapping like matchsticks, shedding gold plating and delicate ivory carvings as the armored figure atop the platform leaps forward, turning in the air. That bifurcated spear girls in gilded gauntlets, a trail of crackling blue-white energy coiling from its edge as the figure suddenly *stops* in mid air, two great plumes of blue-white flame coiling from its back, beating like the wings of an eagle. The golden warrior levels that fanned spear at your chest, hovering near fifty feet above you and laughs, cursing you in his foreign tongue before spitting out in a heavily accented voice
"See the power of the Stormlord? My father protects me and fills me with power. You fight for dead traitor-goddess. You fight for nothing."

>what do?

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>>2774849
Dropped the pic

>>2774849
Throw a building at the pretentious faggot. Or people. Whichever works.

>>2774849
>Chain and hook to groin.

"You have balls to face me. Lets see them."

>>2774868
This is the best idea I’ve ever heard, support

>>2774868
>Get over here
I don't think we have 50 feet of chain but if we do then so much this. Give him the Scorpion.

>>2774934
Jumping seems good. Changing my vote. If anything we can make the distance by jumping off the roof of a building.

Rolled 56 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>Chain hook to the groin
>Roll me 1d100+25. Beat this dodge roll. Bo3

>>2774950
You aren't in the city. You went over the walls to take the fight straight to the enemy

Rolled 89 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>2774951

We /scorpion/ now

>>2774958
Hahaha rekt

Rolled 64 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

For completion

Rolled 8 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>2774951

Rolled 97 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>2774614

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>>2774951
>114>71. Excellent success!
>GetOverHere.jpg

"Your army die here. Ground to dust under our boot. Your city die here. Torn down, built to altar to the Stormlord. YOU die he-Hrrrrrr!!!"
The gilded warriors pompous speech is cut off with a choked scream as you punch forward, the chain unspooling from around your fist with a metallic clanking, links blurring through the air like a serpent of iron. The heavy, sharply curved iron hook at its end, used to hook into loads of stone and haul them atop the wall, smashes into his groin with such force the gilded steel crumples under the impact. Blood wells around the impaling hook, its point lodged firmly in the zealots groin, hooked deeply in flesh and bone.

His gauntleted hands instinctively clutch at the mangling wound, seeking to hold together his likely ruined member. The bifurcated spear tumbles from his grasp as a hissing groan of agony oozes from his lips, hidden behind the engraved helm. You imagine its been years since his own blood was shed on the battlefield. A true warrior should be reminded of it every once in a while.

"You have balls whelp... Lets see if you can keep them"
You growl, snorting in contempt of his lesser armor before wrenching back and downwards, the sound of cracking bone and ripping flesh almost frowned out by the commanders scream. He howls in agony and shock as he is swung to the ground face first, pulled by the groin at forces that would dismember a lesser man. The tremor of his impact shakes your boots, sending a plume of dust and splinters skyward as he slams into the wreckage of his platform like a battering ram, smashing through beams thick enough to hold the roof of a longhouse.

A scream of pure, unbridled rage, a shadow of your own but fiery nonetheless, echoes from within the wreckage before out of the gloom a familiar shape returns. Your hand shoots up, grabbing the hook out of the air, its tip wet with blood and slightly bent from the forces of battle. The weight off the chain rocks you back for a moment, a cruel smile on your lips as the figure rises from the gloom, his extended hand filled by the humming spear as it flies to his hand, his fingers linking around the golden shaft. Almost immediately, blue-white light emerges from the rents in his flesh and armor, fading away as the wounds seal themselves.

"Bastard dog. My father protects me. He never allow me to die. You never kill me."
The duel-bladed spear angles at your chest, the golden champions eyes glowing white behind his helm.
"You... You not wound me again"

>What do?
>Vall and enemy stats incoming

>>2775369
No. Your mistake was coming here to muck up shit in my city. You could have stayed at home suckling daddies cock like a good little cock sleeve, but instead your uppity wanted to make me of all people angry.

Up there? Yeah, sure. God's you may be.
But down here? You'll bleed like a rat, you little shit.

>>2775369
Vall, Greatest of Warlords, Hatred Incarnate, Fist of the West, Breaker of the Stone Crown, Ruin of the East, Sacker of the White City, GiantsBane, DrakeSlayer and Vengeance of Man.
>1500/1500hp
>175 Armor
>Vall's Fist (Warhammer, 3A, 3D, 3DD+40)
>Hooked Chain (Flail, 2A, 1D, 2DD+40)
>Crushing Blow (A single powerful attack that deals X2 damage. Leaves you completely open if you miss.)
>Weapon Throw (Throw your weapon with extreme force. 1A 3DD)
>Rage (Gain stacks of rage for every 100HP you lose. Each stack of rage increases your agility by +5, your strength by +5 and your attack die by 1)
>Weapon Master (+15 Chance to hit or block if fighting with preferred weapon)
>Inhuman agility (+20 to agility, enemy "free attacks" have to beat 70 to hit you)
>Strength of Hero's (+40 to feats of strength)
>Rage against the Darkness (if reduced to 0hp or below, roll 4d100. Regain the total as HP)


Kynath, Son of the Storm, The Morning Star, The Angel of the South, the Golden Son, the Undying, Beloved of the SkyFather and wilder of the Storms Gang
>1600/1600HP
>150 Armor
>Storms Fang (Divine Relic Spear, 4A, 3D, 3DD)
>Wings of the Storm (Gives gift of flight. Gives +30 to dodge and agility)
>Storm-Lance (a powerful blast of lightning. 1A 4DD)
>Spear throw (A highly accurate throw that can pin or impale. 1A 3DD)
>Weapon trap (twist the enemies weapon between the forks of your weapon. Can disarm.)
>Blessed of the Gods (Cannot be killed by mortal weapons. Will regain HP upon death)
>Champions Might (+30 to feats of strength)
>Hawkeye (+20 to chance to hit)

>What do?

>Attack

>Defend

>Feat of Strength

>Fight dirty

>Crushing Blow

>Weapon Throw

>Use the Chain (how)

>Other

>>2775442
>Wielder of the Storms Fang

Fucking autocorrect

How raged are we atm?

>>2775484
You are at 0 rage at the moment. Still angrier than the angriest man alive but nothing compared to how angry you CAN get

>>2775442
>Blessed of the Gods (Cannot be killed by mortal weapons. Will regain HP upon death)
Good. We can perpetuate his suffering.

>Use the Chain (how)
Throwing the length of chain back so it's taut, then charge him while swinging it horizontally at him as to hopefully wrap the chain around him in a crushing embrace or just simply ragdoll him. Wrapping him in a length of chain so he can't use his arms is preferable.

>Fight dirty
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEQc8n-844k
Gouge out his eyes with our armored thumbs, right through the helmet. Better yet crush the helmet and render him blind too.

>>2775485
Kynath can't be killed by mortal weapons, but would it be possible to shit talk him so hard that he commits suicide?

>>2775485
Scary

>>2775527
Supporting this

>>2775527
>Use the Chain (how)
>Throwing the length of chain back so it's taut, then charge him while swinging it horizontally at him as to hopefully wrap the chain around him in a crushing embrace or just simply ragdoll him. Wrapping him in a length of chain so he can't use his arms is preferable.

This. We need to keep the twerp grounded

>>2775527
Full support.

>>2775970
extending upon this notion. He cannot be killed. So we just hack off his hands and feet, and parade him around like our new mascot.

>>2775978
Fist we stripe him of his war gear and cut off his wings. Then we'll bind all his limbs in thick chains. Then we can parade around his crippled hands and feet. Just to be extra safe we should probably cut the tendons to his arms and legs.

To put the cherry on top, we'll put him on a stockade so people can throw garbage and shit at him.

>>2775369
If your so called god was all that strong then way hasn't he come here to kim me himself instead he sends his little bitch and without that spear youl be narthing

Just becouse he cant die right now dosnt mean we cant make him beg for death thoguh cuting him.
Also it seems that thr spears power is what heals him and that only happens when he holds it in his hands, as we was bleeding till it tuched him.
So we ether go for cytting his head off see if itl heal that back couse if he cant will it to his hands then it shouldnt heal him and or break the spear
I mena all we doing is stalling for time till our sword is made and stopinghim from thowing lighting bloys into our city

>>2775442
>>Blessed of the Gods (Cannot be killed by mortal weapons. Will regain HP upon death)
Can we kill him with his own spear then?

>>2776424
I think that’s what we’re supposed to do. Snatch his spear and turn it against him.

>>2775442
>FoS take his spear from him and use it to show him what his insides look like.

>>2776223
Or. Just cut his hands off and cauterize the stumps against Valls smoldering armor.

>>2776424
I was thinking the same thing, but I got a feeling his sugar daddy wouldn't like that and might dispelled it's magicalness or something.

His divine daddy won’t let him die? That means we can chop off his legs and arms, cauterize the wounds, and then rip out his tongue and leave him alive as a reminder to anyone who fucks with us. Just because he can’t die doesn’t mean he can’t suffer. Forever.

Jam his body into the furnace that's used to finish Vall's new weapon. His undying flesh will be a great renewable source of energy.

>Chain Whip, seek to immobilize him, yank him close and thump him
>Fight Dirty!
>Roll me 1d100+15! Beat this Roll! Bo3

Rolled 98 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>2777332

Rolled 66 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>2777332
Spank my ass and call me a bitch

Rolled 61 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>2777333
>98

>>2777362
Someone better roll that 100

Rolled 26 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>2777333
Im going again

Rolled 34 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>2777333
Damn nigga

>81<128. chain whip dodged!

"You think your father will protect you? Boy, NOBODY can protect you from me! Come down here and let me show you..."
You snarl, flicking your arm back, the chain unspooling like a iron serpent, links clacking against each other. You toss the chain back and forth, its iron length twirling faster and faster as the golden warrior hangs effortlessly in the air, his spear glowing a pale crackling blue along the blades. Beneath the iron hide of your armor, bone and tendon pop and creak, muscle swells and blood roars through your veins as you snap your arm in a jerking slash that sends the near hundred foot of chain whipping at the pompous cunt like a slavers lash. Like a arrow made from hundreds of steel links, the chain whirls through the air, the hook at its end curved like the famg of a snake, seeking to bite deep into the demigods flesh.

*Clang!*

The chain wraps around the bladebifurcated spear as the gilded warrior simply twitches backward. A contemptous chuckle reverbrates within his helm as he turns his golden gaze upon you. Those ethereal wings at his back beat against the air, crackling energy roiling off the blue-white plumes like distant lightning. The chain links clank as they pull taut, the demigodss voice booming from his helm, venomous with righteous fury.
"You wish to test my fathers might? Stormfather bless me with a thousand gifts. I bless you with one Hated One. You will fly"

Your armored boots scuff and scrape against the ground as the golden champion beats those immaterial wings like some overgrown eagle, the chain clunking as you are nearly inexorably drawn forwards and upwards. Your feet dig furrows into the hard packed earth as you dig them into the ground, snarling as you have backward, a titanic contest of wills.

Blessed by the Divine and Cursed by the Heavens. A warrior of black and a warrior of gold. Burning Hate and Righteous Fury.

One of you must die.

It *WILL* be him.

>Pull against the chain. He'll have to let go of that spear or come to you. FoS

>Cut the Chain with your axeblade. You don't need it. (Lose Chain whip, gain chain fist)

>Get Angry (What do)

>Other (write in)

>>2777456
>Get Angry (What do)
This is why you do your pull ups.

Start yanking the chain towards yourself, spooling up to the fucker. He wants to fly with you? Great. I wonder how well he will fly with that spear up his ass. That chains not going anywhere...he thinks he has you trapped up there, but its him who is trapped with you.

>>2777456
>Pull against the chain. He'll have to let go of that spear or come to you. FoS
Something about physics where ever there is force there is an equal force. So if we pull really heard, we'll either fly at him, he'll come to us, or a combination of both which would be better due to collision momentum. Depends on who's heavier.

Say a mini smart car and an APC collide against each other. Which example will have the most hurt?

A.) the APC and mini traveling in the same direction, but the APC is moving at 60km and crashes into the mini that is traveling at55km

or

B.) the APC and Mini crash into each other from opposite directions, while APC is traveling at 60km and the mini is traveling at 55km

>>2777461
Nah man. Gotta save those rage stacks for when they're more justified. Gotta edge.

>>2777456
>Pull against the chain. He'll have to let go of that spear or come to you. FoS

>>2777461
This. Rope climb up and ride this fool into the ground

>>2778011
Are we playing god of war?

>>2778179
dunno, but I still think yanking the chain will gib more omph, unless he decides to drop the chain.

>>2778179
>Vall
>God of War
Kinda

>>2778179

Anon, Vall IS the god of war.

>>2778229
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YEOFCGTn4c


CURRRRSED!!!!"

>>2778233
Im pretty sure at this point his just a very angry man that will fuck your shit up.
When his off killing the gods i think that when he gets enguh worship points to become a god

https://youtu.be/TyPyG6n1dCU

where did cursed go?

>>2784172
partial surgery.

>>2784172
>>2784239
no joke. he went under the knife again. Getting his dome worked on for the loss of an eye.

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>>2784274
Did he ask for this'll?

>>2785322
No. He did not ask for this.I Did my best to convince Cursed to get a robot part, so far he is to wise for it, but I'll keep working.

( If you are having warlord withdrawls you can visit my shitty thread and warm your feet until cursed gets back with the real deal. Which is the entire function of sidestory. normally I find pimping another quest in a quest in low taste,but circumstances are as they are)
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2629825/
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2719724/
http://boards.4chan.org/qst/thread/2767976#bottom

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Rolled 85 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>Tug of War
>Feat of Strength
>Rage vs Righteous Fury
>Roll me 1d100+40. Bo3! Beat my roll!

Rolled 100 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>2789654

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>2789654
:o

>>2789654
Fokin post post post the update ya squig!

>>2789663
Oi where'd ya 40 go?

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>>2789654

File: nkkjs.gif (689 KB, 266x199)

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>140>115!
>Feat of Strength EASILY surpassed.
>Natural Critical Success! +1 Damage Die!
>Roll me 5d100+40 for Damage!
>First come first serve!

Rolled 39 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>2789663
>>2789670
ai, sry

Rolled 55, 61, 99, 13, 56 + 40 = 324 (5d100 + 40)

>>2789681

>>2789684
foken chad hoarding all the dice

Rolled 96 + 40 (1d100 + 40)

>>2789681

Damage Results

Vall
>1500/1500HP
>175 Armor
>1/8 Bloodlust
>0/10 Rage


Kynath
>1600/1600HP
>150 Armor
>1/10 Storms Fury
>324-150=174 damage
>1600-174=1426/1600HP

>Writan!

>>2789708
>1/10 Storms Fury
That's new.

The links of the chain clank and scrape against each other as the length of banded iron grows taut. Pulled between two mighty warriors, bound around a fist scarred in battle, caught in the blades of a gods boon. Powerful wings of ethereal energy beat against the air, pulling back with enough might to tow a barge laden with stone blocks. Armored boots carve furrows into the earth like plowblades, muscles straining and breathe steaming like the chimney of a forge.

Your eyes burn, a film of blood and sweat clinging to the malignant orbs as your snarl through your teeth, winding your fist around the chain, hooking your off hand into a link and hauling backward.
"You think you know strength boy? You think your father knows my rage?"
With a single titanic heave the golden warrior is jerked a foot forward and down, his lofty facade crumbling as he realizes how woefully outmatched his might is. Mail and plate groan and shift as muscles beneath swell and bulge, veins standing out like cords of steel as a wordless hollow rips forth from your lips, blasting the thin dust away in a expanding cone of furnace-heat.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"

With every ounce of fury, every drop of bloodlust and hatred in your body, with the pain of every wound, the loss of every fallen friend or comrade roaring in your veins, you have downwards. The slack in the chain grows as Kynath is yanked forward like a hooked fish, the crack of bone from both wrists audible even through the armor. The loss of his position seems to compound as another twisting yank to the chain sends the golden warrior careening through the air like a flail as you slam him downward into the ground so hard and fast a contrail forms at the edges of his armor. The brittle crack and crunch of bone and warping ping of bent metal echoes out as a plume of duste rises up like a stone dropped into a dry well. Before his bones have finished cracking, you are on the move, your chain wrapped fist clenched and a roar of bloodlust on your lips.

"NOW YOU FACE *ME* BOY!"
You bellow, covering the ground in great bounding leaps like a predatory beast. Kynath staggers to his feet in his self made crater, blood and filth coating his gilded armor as he reels. Blood dribbles from underneath his helm, both forearms bent and crooked, one gauntlet half torn off and his once proud armor bent and torn. White bone emerges from a rent in his shin, the pool of blood spreading in a steady stream as his heart works against him. Those golden eyes, glazed and dim, nearly focus on you in the brief moment before your chain wrapped fist smashes into his helm with such force he is thrown backwards like a toy, helm bent inwards and bloody spurting out the eye slit from the titanic blow.

>Bloodlust 2/10

From the haze of dust and smoke, a pair of ethereal wings blaze into life, beating slowly like a wounded drake. Discarded, the bifurcated spear rattles along the ground towards its owner.
>2/10 Storms fury

>What do?

>>2789854
>Hulk smash
Hammer to nail. He's the nail.

>>2789854
>Discarded, the bifurcated spear rattles along the ground towards its owner.
Why don't we help him out and, "toss" it back to him?
Or even ride it so we can punch hi again.

>>2789866
Like nailing him to the ground with his own spear?

>>2789870
Idk if we want to grab his spear. It might react differently to someone other than it's owner

>>2789874
But it is the only magical weapon around that could kill him.
Hmmm. What if it's the spear that give him power.

>>2789878
You make a valid argument. Spear is the nail. Nail him to the ground with it.

>>2789866
>>2789897
>>2789854
Support these two ideas

>>2789929
yes.

>>2789854
How did the bloodlust limit go from 8 to 10

>>2789995
Cursed being forgetful and distracted.

>>2789995
he's just that mad, bro.

>>2790026
You forgot to set it at 11

>>2789897
+1

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Hey guys, im sorry for pulling this on you but my life is getting rather hectic and will be so for the near future so I will be putting this quest on hold until things calm down. Neither this OR snake Quest are Ded, just slumbering deep and dreamlessly in the vaults of Cursed Quests.

Ill still be around and participating where I can, goodbye for now guys and as always, stay awesome (*-')7

>>2791486
Do you bro, we'll be here. Good luck and thanks for everything.

>>2791486
No problem man, you're one of my favorites and I know you'll come back. So keep on keeping on Warlord.

>>2791486
I demand loot
Where the three village loot at though
what of those two silver eyes taken from the statue? would they go to the loot hoard to trophies?

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>>2791486
Seeyouaround