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Post by Stage on Mar 31, 2018 22:34:46 GMT
Catching the orange glow of fire on the pitch black of her black, the woman danced out of the way of the flames. They bathed the top of the stairs instead, causing steam to lick the stone.
The woman in black turned, teeth barred in a snarl. So the flames that had driven away the beast had come from Arkos himself, not a weapon? What manner of men were these?
Her hand slipped into her pocket. She winced as raw flesh scraped the coarse cloth of her coat, but she found what she was looking for: the flask.
"Pathetic," she taunted. "Injured and old, and you still miss? I doubt you could hit me even if I stood right here."
She was trying to entice another gout of flames. Besides preferring that to trying to handle him up close, she had at least one trick to employ. She had intended to use it only as a last resort in the heart of the camp, but circumstances had changed.
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Apr 1, 2018 3:15:28 GMT
The woman in black could hear Akros curse something from the lower story before he scrambled outside, as if trying to rally the soldiers who were approaching. Junn's eyes narrowed as he stepped through the doorway, eyes glowing with a predatory glint.
"Silence wench!" Junn bellowed in reply, lips curled into a feral snarl. "You have no chance of escape. You have cornered yourself here with me." Junn stomped forward two more steps as he flexed his talons. "Now, prepare to die!"
Junn roared as he lunged forward, unleashing a plume of flame from his jaws towards the woman as he did so...
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Post by Stage on Apr 1, 2018 3:57:06 GMT
Quick as a viper, the woman pulled the flask from her pocket and hurled it towards the flames. The silver container, decorated with an intricate, abstract representation a robust, Rusidian subspecies of lion roaring nobly towards the heavens, arced towards the fire-filled jaws of the transformed Junn. Not waiting to watch her marksmanship play out, the woman in black turned and dove down the stairs, practically landing atop Arkos. She considered hauling him by his robes to use a human- or whatever he was- shield, but he had not been unkind to her, so instead she forced his head to bow and shouted, "Keep down!"
The open flask, slowly uncorked in the woman in black's pocket, splashed into the jet of orange hate.
Almost instantly, the flask- more specifically, the powder flask- exploded.
A pound of black powder turned the ornate canister into a mass of twisted shrapnel that flew in all direction for twenty feet. The shock wave was so great that even down the stairs the woman felt it deep in her chest, clogging her throat, causing her heart to skip a beat, and reopening several of closed wounds, dripping fresh blood onto Arkos. If she was so affected, she could only imagine what had become of Junn...
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Apr 1, 2018 4:20:55 GMT
"What in the hell was that?!" Akros cried in horror, his entire body quaking in terror and pain from the resounding explosion. Chunks of wood and ash drifted and fell down from the upper story, before a larger, heavier shape crashed down onto the stairs. The large reptilian shape writhed around for a couple of moments, before it fell completely limp. After a moment, the shape shrunk back down to the original form of Junn, revealing the explosion had completely blown apart his face.
"Y-you.... you killed him!" Akros stammered, still in shock. The front door of the building was suddenly kicked open, as a trio of heavily armored figures began to approach the woman in black and Akros, their swords licked with crimson flame....
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Post by Stage on Apr 1, 2018 5:00:36 GMT
The woman in black seized Arkos by his robes and pulled him to his feet. She looked the man in the eye. "Stay out of my way. I'd rather not do the same to you."
Midnight metal flashed in front his nose. Her sword had severed a part of his robe. As he fell back, she kicked him in the gut, propelling him towards the approaching guards.
The four Draxons collided, falling in a pile atop the unfortunate Arkos. The woman in black leaped over them and ran towards the door they had left open, sword ready to greet the outside...
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Apr 1, 2018 5:13:52 GMT
Much to the woman's dismay, however, several more soldiers approached her on the outside. Three of them ran towards her carrying shields and arming swords, while two more approached her wielding lances in an attempt to keep her at a distance. The group of five shouted and yelled at her in the phlegmy language from before and spread out to form a barrier between her and the gate.
Inside the tower, the four guards scrambled to their feet and quickly resumed their chase after the woman, their swords glowing with fire once more. Akros lay on the floor of the tower, grabbing his head in a mixture of pain and sadness. Guilt washed over him as he glanced towards the mangled and currently burning remains of Junn. This was all his fault. This never should have happened. He should've just listened to Junn before. Travelers are dangerous. They should be killed on sight, not given trial. They are not citizens of our kingdom, they are our enemies. he would say.
"I-I'm sorry, J-Junn," Akros cried to himself, curling up into the fetal position. "I-I guess you were right... t-travelers can't be trusted..."
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Post by Stage on Apr 1, 2018 5:50:23 GMT
The woman in black stopped. She knew resistance would be heavy should she have to force her way out, but using her last resort right away put her in a difficult position. Thin, spidery fingers felt the jug on her hip. She could use her new last resort, but she would first rather try one more bluff.
"Step aside!" she bellowed with an authoritative tone only attained through nearly twenty years of commanding troops. "I am Temned! I am goddess of the night! Of vengeance! I have smote your captain, for my flames were hotter than his! If you do not wish to feel my fire, then let me pass!"
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Apr 1, 2018 6:19:47 GMT
The guards seem to give the woman brief pause. They kept their weapons raised, but their resolve seemed to falter ever so slightly. Though they doubt her a god, she certainly did seem to be packing some sort of firepower, given the mangled remains of their captain smoldering within the tower...
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Post by Stage on Apr 1, 2018 6:23:10 GMT
"Last chance," the woman in black howled. She pointed her ebony sword forward as if it held all the power of the night. "Move or burn."
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Apr 1, 2018 6:28:39 GMT
The guards seemed to back off for a brief moment, taking her threat with seriousness. They did not want to risk being butchered by the woman. Just when it seemed the shadowy figure would receive her chance to retreat, however, a voice shouted from the tower.
"No!" It was Akros. Tears visibly ran down his cheeks as his hands filled with a swirl of fire. "I'm not letting you leave here, not after what you did to Junn!"
A geyser of flame erupted from his hands, aimed directly towards the woman in black.
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Post by Stage on Apr 1, 2018 6:44:26 GMT
Not expecting retaliation from the man so soon, the woman was struck full in the back by the flames. It took every ounce of control instilled in her by thirty years of military service not to scream in agony as the fire licked her bare neck and wrists. She could already smell her shoulder-length hair burning. Thankfully, it was her heavy coat that captured the majority of the blast. With a sweep of her arms, she flipped the flaming coat over her head, extinguishing her hair, and onto the ground, where it was smothered against the ground. She was now left in a much thinner linen shirt.
"I warned you," the woman in black muttered to whoever could hear as she flicked her sword, cutting the cord that attached the jug to her hip. An overhead throw sent it soaring over the living wall of guards and into the bonfire, where it erupted into a fireball upon breaking. Burning alcohol splashed onto the guards from behind where their shields could not defend them. They were set aflame immediately.
The woman then rushed the guards, prepared to cut down any who managed to try and attack her despite the flame that engulfed them...
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Apr 1, 2018 6:54:57 GMT
The guards engulfed in her alcohol-fueled conflagration paid her no heed. They were far too busy rolling around on the ground, wracked with horrible pain as the fire heated their armor to an unbearable degree. The guards behind the woman in black, however, rushed in after her, avoiding what flames that they could in an attempt to cut her down.
Akros, on the other hand, jetted himself using another geyser of flames onto the roof of the nearby barracks, before he conjured a condensed sphere of flame in his hands and threw it slightly ahead of the woman's current location, hoping to hit her directly or, if not, catch her in the radius of the explosion...
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Post by Stage on Apr 1, 2018 7:33:07 GMT
The woman in black was forced to stop short or be struck dead on by the fireball, and the blast still grazed her as it erupted in all direction, a mushroom cloud of orange ferocity powered by Arkos's disillusionment. Flames climbed up one of her sleeves and a shoe smoked. The sleeve was quickly ripped away before the flax could be melted onto her skin, and the smoldering shoe was kicked off, though not before she took the opportunity to launch a dislodged piece of the bonfire towards the gate. It bounced off and began a small fire that would hopefully open up her escape route.
Turning to face the oncoming guards, the woman slashed her blade through a burning puddle, sending a thin crescent of alcohol and flames into them. It was not enough to dispatch them like those caught in the explosions, but it would at least distract. The tip of her midnight sword now wreathed in flames, the woman in black stepped forward and cut at the legs of the nearest guard, trying to topple him across the path of the others...
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Apr 1, 2018 7:53:46 GMT
The flames rapidly began to consume the wooden gate, starting as a small patch before rapidly growing to a monstrous fire. This distracted several of the guards, including the one the woman was striking with her blade. He cried out in pain as the ebon sword cleaved into his knee, nearly severing cleanly in twine. His leg collapsed under the weight of his body and armor, causing the wound to visibly worsen as lower leg dislodged itself from the rest of the body. One of the guards tripped over his comrade, eliciting intensified screaming from the man, but the others noticed the severity of their comrade's wounds and attempted to drag him away from the conflict.
Akros continued his assault on the fleeing trespasser, flinging a trio of fireballs towards her wildly in a frenzied attempt to strike her down...
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Post by Stage on Apr 1, 2018 8:14:45 GMT
The first fireball erupted to her right and stopped the woman in black mid-swing from cutting down another guard. The second burst on her left and nearly knocked her to the ground, where she would have splashed into a flaming pool of alcohol and burned alongside her many victims. As the third closed in, she threw herself in the air, limbs curling in. The final explosion caught her in its shock wave after striking where she would have been, striking her with flames and embers, but also flung her towards the collapsing gate. She landed in a heap, the wind knocked from her lungs, but she knew she did not have the time to regain her breath. The woman staggered up, holes burned through her shirt to reveal pale skin, lesions ringing her thin limbs, and stumbled on.
Even as she peered across the burning expanse of grass between her and her freedom, the woman in black knew what she had to do.
So she did.
She ran.
Through the flames. Across the coal. Past the bodies of the dead she had left behind. The woman in black ran, hard as she could, towards the gate and the wilderness beyond.
Because she would rather face the night and the wild, hungry beasts who stalked it than kings in their well-lit courts.
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Post by Orcus on his Throne on Apr 1, 2018 8:48:04 GMT
Arkos could only watch in horror as the woman escaped into the night. Tears still streaming down his cheeks, he looked over the burning camp, littered with the bodies of many dead. The wounded were being escorted away by the survivors, while the dead were being buried. Arkos could only lean over the edge of the barracks' roof and buried his face in his hands. Why did it have to come to this?....
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