An Unwelcome Marauder

Outside the city of Drache lies a number of cities, towns and provinces of varying size and populace. Most of the people living outside Drache are natives who speak Arangothian and observe the native customs and rituals. Click here for a list Arangoth's locales, and here to view a map.
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Selestia
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Re: An Unwelcome Marauder

Post by Selestia »

There was a flick of her long tail, wings spread out slightly almost as if she is trying to shield the icewyrm from the sight of the men and soldiers gathered. One bloodied talon comes forward after he speaks to rest lightly on his muzzle as she lowers her head; his words would burrow deep into the back of her mind, if they were not already something of a dark, doubting worm in her heart. Perhaps she already fears that. She brings her head down low enough that she can watch the light fade, watch the inner glow that was a dragon's eye dim as the magic that is their life left him.

"May the stars carry thee away."

Behind her, off away from the hulking forms for the two beasts, a tall, almost stately man was approaching as the dust settles. Older, his beard neatly trimmed and starkly silver nearing on white against the black wool of his clothing. He keeps one eye on the large forms as he approaches the fallen Andrea, holding his gloved hands out, empty, so she would see he was there to help, not harm. Bending over her, the silver braid falls over his broad shoulder as he gently runs his hands over feathers; damn griffons and their immunities.

"Where the hell have you been?!"

The red dragon had swung her head around, eyes narrowed down on the silver-haired man who was trying to help Andrea however he could. She has not moved, and the keen interest of the gathering soldiers and company over Behoxa was not unnoticed; but they were keeping distance for the moment, which is a good thing. Watching a creature as old as he being carved up for parts would be...well, she's a raw nerve.

"Your blood witch packed a whollop. I was not expecting something like her." The older man, Tehothir, glances briefly at the dragon, then back at the griffon. Healing a griffon was distastefully slow and old fashioned. "And I have no use for territory in the Ruthmarna. I know you don't either, but you seem to lurk around these parts more than I." The smile on his lined face was wry. "To the victor goes the spoils, right?"

"I'll deal with his hoard, then it all belongs to the dwarves again." 'Hoard' was said with much distaste, reasons unknown. Most likely she knew exactly what his hoard entailed. Her talons slide off the icewyrm's muzzle slowly; she almost seems reluctant to leave, knowing what happens as soon as she removes herself from between the fallen dragon and the gathered victorious. Again, her left wing will not fully retract and arcs at the pivotal joint in an awkward angle to keep the tips from trailing the ground. A very fine tremor sets in her limbs as the battle fatigue becomes more apparent, the vibrating movement making ichor trickle easily between battle-dulled scales from numerous wounds and even some burns--lightning was not a flame. Shifting from foot to foot, she rakes her gaze around the battle field, searching...searching...searching for allies...

"...Where...?"
"Hell hath no fury like a dragon sworn."
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Karras
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Re: An Unwelcome Marauder

Post by Karras »

The air is filled with an eerie stillness, after the raging cacophony of the battle, the silence that falls upon the mountain after the ice dragon's demise is all too unsettling. Smoke rises up from the ground where dragonfire had scorched it, and there are frozen remains of what had probably been men, caught up in raging storm of Behoxa's ice breath and shattered thereafter to smithereens. Men and dwarves gather about, a tensile feeling in the air, none daring to approach the red dragon for now, perhaps with good reason. Men and dwarf had died here, and it was vengeance they sought for their fallen brothers, but they would not be so foolhardy enough to desecrate the body with one of it's kin still present, and notably wounded.

Hawke's hammer had indeed been perhaps the final hammer blow, there being no need from a coupe de grace from the younger red dragon, for Behoxa's ruin had already been decided with those last few blows of men and their steel, and the mages with their magic. The once great and powerful dragon is now all but a carcass, limp, and no longer cold. Already, the signs of it's death are evident, the colour already beginning to dim from bright cobalt scales.

The stillness and silence is interrupted with the unnerving moans and screams of wounded soldiers. Healers in their ranks tend to them as best they can, but the destruction brought upon the mountain from Behoxa's uncontrollable rage is as audial as it is visual... the air is thick with the stench of blood, charred or frozen bodies, mud, sweat and piss. There is nary a cheer or a cry of victory from those gathered -- it has been too much for most to take in, and the shock for many gathered is noticeable.

Allies, perhaps. Such an arbitrary description, though considering the fighting had stopped and nobody is attack the other dragon, there should be peace at last upon this ground for the time being. One of the Sergeants from the battle steps forward, leather armour soaked in blood. Pelandra is nowhere to be seen. Orders are given with little earnest -- clear the dead, assist the wounded. There's much healing to be done here, both of the body and the mind. Stepping forward, he approaches the one known as Telothir, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Captain Palandra is dead. I've taken command here, for the moment. You're a healer?" he asks. "We're going to need all the healers we can get."
Last edited by Karras on Mon Dec 09, 2013 4:42 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Re: An Unwelcome Marauder

Post by Defined »

Andrea was slowly picking herself off the ground, groaning and trying to shake off the stiffness she felt deep in her bones, skin..even her claws ached, but she was -alive- ".geroff me...I'll be fine..just so long as a get my spicerack..." She'd try to get up with a flex of muscle..then slump back down again.."Y'know...I think I'll stay here a little bit, need to catch up on my sleep"

Andrea slumped back, Telothir was correct, it would be the long way, but there was nothing cataclysmic wrong with her, bruised black and blue underneath her feathers sure, a little singed yeah, and that front right leg looks a little sprained, but she doesn't need any attention compared to all the others around her...just sleep off all her problems on the nice comfy ground....
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Re: An Unwelcome Marauder

Post by metalslime »

As the final clash of battle slowly faded from his ears, the half elven man stood there in silence as his spells wore off one by one, reaching their various durations' ends. He watched the scene with the red dragon warily for a moment, before he retreated to where he'd left his staff. Picking up the largely expended tool from where it lay amidst snow and stone, he began to approach the fallen beast, albeit slowly. He did cast a gaze across to the scattered fallen. True, he did have a few healing spells in his repetoire, but had used most of them on himself over the course of the long battle. Further, their plight wasn't his to worry about just then.

Bracing himself upon his staff, Hawke slung his shield back over his shoulder, and hiked slowly upward. It had been a draining combat to be sure.
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Re: An Unwelcome Marauder

Post by Selestia »

The elder Tehothir actually tsk-tsks at Andrea, shaking his head as he brushes his gloved hands off on his knees, rising to stand straight. "This won't do, m'dear. Warmth will help. Can you at least limp yourself to the Inn before you sleep or shall I get some soldiers to drag you with horses?" Was he being sarcastic? Hard to tell, but perhaps not. A cough as he runs a hand over the neatly trimmed beard, looking toward the Sergent who inquires on his intent; there was a slight twinkle in his eye, a hint of mirth like the whole oncoming conversation was going to amuse him. Greatly.

"Aye, I'm know a bit of healing. I can trust the griffin will not be turned into someone's meal while I attend others?" This is dwarf territory after all. Griffin were a delicacy.

"This isn't your mess." The red dragon's talons dug into the melted snow and mud before vanishing; the betwixt moment between big and small takes longer, more than a heartbeat, but still the physics and the magic make it something the eyes cannot follow until the redhead was standing there once again, breathing heavily as the energy needed took its toll. Shuffling her feet, she moves farther from the fallen Behoxa, giving the soldiers and gathered victorious a wide berth.

Hugging her left arm tight to her side, she limps toward the others, looking far from spry, bloodied, battered and bruised. A large bruise was blossoming over her right cheek, a cut bisecting it in a way that would make extraneous facial reactions--smiling, laughing, scowling--painful. The green eyes are set on Tehothir, who was watching in her a passive way that said he knew her temper and could weather it like a veteran. Or would not tolerate it himself.

"This isn't your mess," she repeats, glancing from the older man to the Sergent, then back again.

The corner of Tehothir's mouth quirks before he rolls his shoulders in a congenial shrug. "Go sit down before you fall down, my dear, and we'll discuss this all later. I assume you got what you were told to get?"

The look on her face...unpleasant. It is all the she has the energy for. Glancing around surreptitiously once again, she raises her right hand to rub the bridge of her nose. "I'm missing people. I need to make sure they're alright. The griffin is here, and I see the Hawke." A glance off toward the half-elf, then back toward the Sergeant and Tehothir. "The ranger and the Seccan."

"I saw the ranger get dragged to the Inn--one of the blasts caught him cold."

That sounds right. "I'll find the Seccan, then. Usually he's making one hell of a squalor by now." The redhead glances at the Sergeant, then glowers at Tehothir. "Do what you want. You do anyway."


(Happy New Year! Was out of town in Washington DC for the last week! ^_^)
Last edited by Selestia on Thu Jan 02, 2014 2:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Hell hath no fury like a dragon sworn."
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Karras
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Re: An Unwelcome Marauder

Post by Karras »

The Sergeant looked on to Telothir, puzzled at his comments of soldiers eating the griffon, then repulsed by the suggestion. There was far too many injured and dead to tend to, he thought, than any need concern themselves with the actions of those who were lucky enough to remain unharmed. Regardless, he nods to the other with tired eyes.

"There is not need for concern, enough blood has been shed today. The dwarves will be too busy mourning their dead than to concern themselves with being troubled over a griffon of the west." With a shrug, he adds, "I'll see no harm comes to her."

The guard's eyes glance about as the ragged bunch of adventurers talk of finding lost comrades. Knowing nothing of this other westerner they refer to he can only nod again.

"I have seen no such man, but should I see him you'll be the first to know." A sweep to all gathered, his look turns solemn.

"I thank you all for your help in defeating our foe," he says, taking note of them all. For a moment, he seems to search for words to say, then finding none, he turns away towards his fellow cohort. "I wish you luck finding your friends," he farewells, though the undertone in his voice suggests that here in the desolation, hope was a vane wish best left to rest with the dead.
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