Gods & Men: The Ancient Myths: Chapter 1 IC Thread

[twylight]

Ooc: Twice!

 

[twylight]

"MOTHER!" Pulling away from Aad she ran down towards the cliff overlooking the sea. The wind whipped her hair, breaking free from her hair pin and lashing against her face with stinging force. Pulling it back she watched with her eyes wide. Her mother was just reaching her father who stood on the beach. His arms outstreached in front of him at the oncoming wave. Their forms like ants against it.

Aithne let out a scream that went unheard as the wind tore it from her mouth. She felt herself yanked back as Aad's arm grabbed her around her waist. Pulling her up in front of him on his horse the horse sprang forward inland. The horse her mother summoned racing beside them. Within moments they were halfway across the Island and the wave started to arc down.

"Aad....." She buried her face in his chest as the resounding crash of the wave's impact shook the ground and made the air quake. The tears came to her eyes and she cried, her body shaking from the sobs, the shock racing through her mind and stabbing her heart.

Aithne blinked, a tear falling from her eye and sliding down her cheek as she tried to remember where she was. She pushed herself up off the floor and looked around confused, wiping her eye. She listened to the conversation, they were speaking to a man on the bookcase. He had a quiver on his back an indication it was he who'd put them to sleep. The men exchanged words, lots of them, before she spoke. Rothgar had just finished speaking when she jumped in. Her blood rushing to her head at her forwardness, the water which she'd lost control of had pooled at the floor started to move as her emotions rose.

"I doubt he has any knowledge he'd share. Not only is he heartless but he is also stupid." Her simple words in contrast to his lyrical phrases. She motioned her arms to the barricaded doorways.
"Is it not obvious we are not the cause of this? Why would we barricade ourselves from the ones we 'command'?" The water started to rise around her in droplets. She didn't understand their focus on books. She'd seen them up close a few weeks ago in another city. thin sheets of leather, or something called 'paper' with the countries language written on them. It was just ink. There was no heart or soul, the important things were passed through stories, person to person, lovingly shared among all other people. Not just the select few.

"Is all you care about books? What of the people? Are you so heartless as that?" The renewed emotions of her memories washed over her and she let the water around her loose from it's holds, allowing it to rush at him and shatter the bookcase next to him.

"You have done nothing but alert the enemy to our position" She motioned the broken window.
"And they speak truly. We have no time for this nonsense. You're obviously not who we have our issue against. "

 

[trustyside-kick]

Edit.

 

[trustyside-kick]

Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

***

Caed swings his guitar around from his back, grasping it swiftly with both hands as he sets down the book. He draws nearer to one of the Norsemen that have not spoken a word: Gunnar the Tame. He studies the humble nature of this warrior, which differs from Rothgar. That is, until Rothgar yet again speaks to the wandering bard.

Rothgar took a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to keep his anger in check.
"Aye, I read books, bard. And I'd show more respect if I were you, lest you find your instrument shoved up a very uncomfortable place."

"Is that so, warrior? Do you forget whom put you in that peaceful slumber? But if you feel such tactics were unfair, I shall match you tenfold in the sword. I may not have carried such a weapon in years, but my mastery of it goes back decades before your time. Before I turned over my savagery for the peaceful and melodic tunes of this world."

Caed starts to calmly pluck his strings, with one specific tune in mind. It simply eases his years old anger and brings him to peace. Then one of the two very peculiar men speak up to Caed. One of the two that do not come across at all as the warrior-type. He is a somewhat...the words are hard to describe. Innocent? Almost as though his intentions are good. Perhaps Caed was wrong in his judgement of these men and woman.

"Calm down, my musically inclined friend. I have as just appreciation for the written word as you."

He smiles and offers his hand.

"I am Dante Giovanni, The Docktore. I can speak for these men....and, uh woman. We are not the cause of this destruction, this is the work of a lich-king."

He plays the wrong note, for the first time in years. The mention of a Lich-King, causes Caed to start deep into The Doktore's eyes. Caed walks up to the scientist, trying to see the possibility of deceit in his eyes. He can see none.

"A Lich-King you say..."

"So it is said", Rothgar added.
"We still have yet to prove anything, either way. Maybe this fair lad can shed some light on the mystery", Rothgar stated as his eyes remained locked on the bard.
"That is, if he's able to climb off his perch to converse with 'brutes' such as us?"

Then the woman finally speaks up. Filled with much more anger than the rest to Caed's surprise. It had been becoming clear to him that these people perhaps have not been behind the destruction of Athens. He was just being...stupid, as the girl so brilliantly puts it.

"Is all you care about books? What of the people? Are you so heartless as that?" The renewed emotions of her memories washed over her and she let the water around her loose from it's holds, allowing it to rush at him and shatter the bookcase he was on.

"You have done nothing but alert the enemy to our position" She motioned the broken window.
"And they speak truly. We have no time for this nonsense. You're obviously not who we have our issue against. "

Caed closes his eyes for a moment, walking backward and bumping into one of the bookshelves. A few books stumble to the floor, knocking him in the shoulders as they fall down their vertical path. A Lich-King is responsible...or at least that is the current suspect. Athens...Athens was chosen among many fine civilizations to fall now.

"L-L-Lich King, you say. I know a tale of an old Lich-King. His origins they say can be traced to this very once powerful city-state."​

 

[Johnny Blaze]

"This is a great opportunity, Cy-Spar", came the disembodied voice, seemingly everywhere in the dark room.
Cy-Spar Tuin'Tarl sat in a small chair carved from a large mushroom in a small, empty room. Empty save for Cy-Spar and the voice of The Shadow, lord of Vhaeraun's church in Haundrauth.

"Opportunity for House Tuin'Tarl to elevate it's rank and to wipe out a rival. And I'm forced to deal with those infernal mind flayers because of it", Cy-Spar scowled and he folded his arms across his chest.

The voice of The Shadow chuckled.

"There's is always opportunity to gain, Cy-Spar. Even in the most miserable of situations."

"And what could we possibly gain from these squid-faced aberrations?"

"I have agents all throughout the Underdark, Cy-Spar", retorted the voice.
"Word has it that a great treasure has found it's way into the Illithid's hands. One they took from a group of Svirfneblin minors they ambushed."

"And what is this treasure that I presumably will be stealing?"

The Shadow laughed, "you catch on quick, Cy-Spar. I always liked that about you. Yes, you will most certainly be stealing the treasure while you are their guest."

"And", The Shadow's voice spoke, taking a serious tone, "this treasure is a small Svirfnebli pick axe."

"A pick axe", Cy-Spar questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Correct. A pick axe with the power to control the earth around it. A most valuable weapon in our struggle against the *****-Queen."

"Very well. I'll get the axe", Cy-Spar agreed, though it wasn't as though he had much of a choice.

"Excellent. Abargandar will brief you on the detail of your little errand as you leave. Remember, stealth is the key."

"And that will be extremely difficult in a city full of telepaths."

"Abargandar will give you something to remedy that problem. Dismissed."

Cy-Spar stood in the pitch black room and silently made his way out the door...

 

[Catman_prb]

Caed closes his eyes for a moment, walking backward and bumping into one of the bookshelves. A few books stumble to the floor, knocking him in the shoulders as they fall down their vertical path. A Lich-King is responsible...or at least that is the current suspect. Athens...Athens was chosen among many fine civilizations to fall now.​

"L-L-Lich King, you say. I know a tale of an old Lich-King. His origins they say can be traced to this very once powerful city-state."​

Kelvamin flexed his hands once he had freed himself from his bonds. He looked at the bard closely, one hand gripping the hilt of his katana. He stepped closer to the man, growling fiercely and gripping his tunic to bring his face closer.

"Master bard," he hissed "I can understand how you made an honest mistake in your grief. Really, I can. But unless you want each bone in your body snapped individuallly, I believe that you should start to pull your weight in an attempt to redeem yourself. And you can start by telling us about how the Lich-King came into being. I apologise for threatening you, really I do, but I felt it was the best way to get my point across,"

He dumped the bard ceremoniously onto the floor and straightened his white robes. Leaning against the wall, he took a few minutes to clear his mind from the white hot rage he was currently feeling. His master would either be greatly amused by his anguish, or deeply dissapointed. But his master had been gone so long he couldn't really tell any more. He hoped it was amusement.

 

[trustyside-kick]

Some people would call me a scholar, but I just choose wisely with my words. Others would call me a man of god, a preacher. I have my beliefs, and fear the Almighty for his presence is indeed here, but I do not praise him. Many would go to call me a prophet, believing that my stories fortell possible future events, but I merely re-tell tales of the past, no trickery in this.

I am none of these. So who am I? That matters not. I am untamable, bearing ties to no one. My alliegance lies not with the elves, nor the dwarves, nor even the humans. My heritage, bears little, next to no importance in why I am here. I have been away from home, for so long, after I have told my tale, you too will have forgotten me, for I will not be here afterwards. I am a recluse. I am a hermit. I am a nomad. I am an outcast. But you may call me Caed.

***

Caed had been so mesmerized by the thought of a Lich-King being behind the destruction of Athens. So frozen with the fear of the idea, that it's as though his senses had run amuk and he almost could not tell what was here and what was there.
​

Kelvamin flexed his hands once he had freed himself from his bonds. He looked at the bard closely, one hand gripping the hilt of his katana. He stepped closer to the man, growling fiercely and gripping his tunic to bring his face closer.

"Master bard," he hissed "I can understand how you made an honest mistake in your grief. Really, I can. But unless you want each bone in your body snapped individuallly, I believe that you should start to pull your weight in an attempt to redeem yourself. And you can start by telling us about how the Lich-King came into being. I apologise for threatening you, really I do, but I felt it was the best way to get my point across,"

He dumped the bard ceremoniously onto the floor and straightened his white robes.

Fixing himself as he had been shoved around, Caed eventually gets a hold of himself. Swinging back around his guitar on its strap as it had swayed around during the brief tugging, Caed settles himself in the center of the group. He takes a seat, sitting indian-style, and perches his guitar upon his lap. With both hands, he places his fingers upon the strings of his guitar as though it was a piano, and begins to pluck a dreadful and ominous tune.

"It starts with a Sword. Or...Swords rather. And it ends with the Swords."

Caed's song resonantes just before he plays it at a soft and low pianissimo. He starts to pluck the strings very softly, glancing at the figures as they crowd around him now.

"There is a legend about a Lich-King that is said to have originated in Athens; a mage. But of course, one does not simply begin life as a lich. One must commit the sacrificial ritual which involves taking one's own life. What do you suppose drives a man to such insanity? That he would take his own life?"

This is where Caed changes keys, and comes out with a grand crescendo. A crescendo that starts with notes that are very dissonant until changing one to make them resonant yet again.

"He was a great wizard. A member of the Swords of Ares. So great and so wise, that some say when he stumbled upon the Dark Arts, that he went mad. Others claim that the Demon Prince whispered into his ear one day, and that drove him mad. And that as a servant of Orcus, this master of necromancy was eventually driven out of Athens. Never seen again."

Abruptly, Caed stops his fingers from plucking on the guitar and the song ends.

"No one knows his resting place. Then again to say such a phrase is an oxymoron for there is no rest for the undead. Some say that he sends out his minions from time to time, to ravage the lands and commit evil deeds. The Swords of Orcus."

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Since he and the others had awoken, Gunnar had remained quiet. He knew almost nothing of what they were up against, so he was all too happy to merely listen; to learn.

"Can his victimst be turned?" Gunnar found his thoughts of his brother made into words before he had willed it.

The assembled group all turned to look at the usually silent warrior quizically. "His undead minions....can they be brought back to life?" he asked, pleaded with, the mysterious bard.

 

[Catman_prb]

The assembled group all turned to look at the usually silent warrior quizically. "His undead minions....can they be brought back to life?" he asked, pleaded with, the mysterious bard.

Kelvamin put a hand on the shoulder of the broad figured Norseman, and squeezed it gently.

"I am sorry Gunnar. Nothing can bring them back, or at least in any form that would be worth the effort. What you see is merely a shell of what once was. Whatever, whoever, they once were is on the other side. And bringing things back over from the other side often has complications, things come back over with them. It is better to accept what has been and look forwards to what will come to pass. I'm sorry,"

 

[SenseiofCheese]

Kelvamin put a hand on the shoulder of the broad figured Norseman, and squeezed it gently.

"I am sorry Gunnar. Nothing can bring them back, or at least in any form that would be worth the effort. What you see is merely a shell of what once was. Whatever, whoever, they once were is on the other side. And bringing things back over from the other side often has complications, things come back over with them. It is better to accept what has been and look forwards to what will come to pass. I'm sorry,"

Gunnar hung his head low, fighting his thoughts. Everything he had seen pointed towards Björn having fallen in Athens, or worse yet, become the Lich King´s undead servant. But deep down, he refused to believe it.

"Then tell me, bard." Gunnar looked back up with a solemn anger in his eyes. "The Lich King. How do we kill him?"

 

[twylight]

Aithne sat down on the edge of a table and listened, the water around the room pooling to a puddle at her feet. It was her absent minded way of cleaning up her own mess. Brion walked over to her and breathed heavily on her hand, his warm breath adding to her already warm state. This place was not cool, despite it's situation near water, it was much warmer than she was used too. She brushed her hair from her face and twisted it back into a bun, weaving her hairpin through it securely. She tilted her head at the one Kelvamin called 'Gunnar', he was blonde as well, like Rothgar, but carried a sorrow the other warrior did not. His question made her think he'd probably lost someone close to him to the Lich King, for only those desperate wanted to bring back the dead.

It was a new concept for her, death was welcomed at home, for the dead went into the Land in the West, a much better place than here.

 

[Carnage27]

Gunnar hung his head low, fighting his thoughts. Everything he had seen pointed towards Björn having fallen in Athens, or worse yet, become the Lich King´s undead servant. But deep down, he refused to believe it.

"Then tell me, bard." Gunnar looked back up with a solemn anger in his eyes. "The Lich King. How do we kill him?"

Amun had stayed quiet during the conversation with the bard, but the thought of simply killing a lich made him chuckle.

"Have you never heard the stories, boy? One does not simply kill a lich as if he were a man, or a zombie," he says, standing and moving into the middle of the group. "A lich can only be defeated if his body and his soul are destroyed in unison. And a lich's soul is never contained in the body."

Amun looked into the face of every one of the assembled warriors, "A lich traps it's soul in a phylactery when it becomes the infernal creature. We must acquire that before we will have any chance of victory."

 

[Catman_prb]

Amun looked into the face of every one of the assembled warriors, "A lich traps it's soul in a phylactery when it becomes the infernal creature. We must acquire that before we will have any chance of victory."

Kelvamin shook his head in irritation.

"We face an impossible task. We must find this phylactery, which will likely be heavily guarded, and we have no idea of knowing where it is. At the same time we must destroy the body that is defended at the very least by dragons," he said, smiling at the impossibleness of it all.

"And at the SAME time we must warn the nations of the world against an imminent attack from the dragons of the Lich-King," he sighed "The only country with a fully functional army is Sparta and I know their king. He will not march to war without council,"

 

[Johnny Blaze]

A low, rumbling laughter could be heard from above, bringing the attention of all in the room to the large hole in the ceiling.

There, smiling down at them was a large, tattooed man dressed in fine Greek robes as red as elemental flames.

"Foolish little insects", the man growled deeply, "you cannot kill the lich. He's far too powerful."

"But he can certainly kill you."

The man let out a god-awful howl as his body began to twist and grow at an alarming rate. Skin was replaced with scales as red as his robes. His mouth and nose elongated into a reptilian snout, and his teeth grew to look like jagged swords.

Suddenly looming down at the heroes was the frightening visage of Firastekles, the Terror of Sparta.

"Charaun sends his regards", the red dragon snorted as a cone of fire shot from it's mouth and poured into the suddenly cramped room...

-------------------------------

Seeing the battle through the eyes of one of his undead minions, Charaun watched as the massive form of Firastekles loomed over the Athenian School of the Art, or what was left of it, and breathed a gout of fire into the building.

"Excellent", the lich cackled in delight as the red drake began it's assault on the heroes.

"Fitting that the School which spurned me shall become the crypt of those that dare challenge my might."

"Björn", Charaun stated through his connection with his minion, "move closer. I wish to watch the flame peel the flesh from their bones."

The undead form of Björn obeyed it's master, and he, along with his troupe of skeletons and wights moved towards the school...

------------------------------------------

Night descended on the beautiful Roman countryside. Most were heading in doors, but the bustling of the city itself could be seen and heard from miles out.

The mist pooled and collected on the ground of a nearby graveyard, just outside the city. Slowly it condensed and coalesced, forming into the seductive form of Kallisto, Charaun's master assassin.

She unsheathed her sword and caressed it as she would a lover, with gentleness rarely seen by the violent vampire.

"Soon, my sweet Sorrow", she cooed to her blade, "you will taste the flesh of an Emperor. And when morning comes, Rome will know tragedy unlike any it has seen in years."

Charaun had been clear with his orders. Slaughter Emperor Trajan and all his kin. Leave nobody of royal blood alive. The sudden power vacuum would cause squabbling and political in-fighting. And it would be quite some time before Rome would be able to bring it's mighty military to bear against the undead army of the Lich-King.

"A wise move, as always", Kallisto stated to herself as she went over her master's plan in his head. Her mind slowly started to drift back to her former life. A life in the Swords of Ares. A life of adventure and passion with an amazing wizard...

She pushed the thoughts aside and gracefully rose to her feet. Sheathing her sword, Sorrow, Kallisto calmly started the short walk into Rome.

 

[Carnage27]

Suddenly looming down at the heroes was the frightening visage of Firastekles, the Terror of Sparta.

"Charaun sends his regards", the red dragon snorted as a cone of fire shot from it's mouth and poured into the suddenly cramped room...

Amun wasted no time in rolling towards a marble overhang that protected him from the beast's infernal flames, which blinded him from seeing the fate of his friends.

Once the jet subsided, he returned fire with his magical bow, which angered the dragon more than hurt it. The beast reached down with it's jaws, snapping at the Egyptian warrior, who slashed back with his sword.

"My friends! If any of you still take in breathes, I could use some help!"

 

[Optikal]

Spoiler

It was the smell that hit him first. The clogging scent of burning flesh and blood upon the air. Oleks boots pounded the ground as he ran full tilt up the hill towards the plumes of black smoke rising into the air.

As he crested the hill he almost stumbled and fell. The village was ablaze, it's inhabitants... his people... lay dead, their lifeblood soaking into the dirt. Olek looked around for any sign of who or what could have done this but found none. Hefting his wood-cutters axe to his shoulder he raced down the hill and into the blaze that was his village. Kicking open doors and checking on the dead for signs of life, he found none.

His own home, on the far side of the village was also smouldering. Olek smashed his way through the old wooden door and into the building itself. "Teana?! Sven?! Where are you?!"

Seeing no sign of his wife or his son, Olek raced back out into the village, screaming their names. Moving round the back of his house, Olek let out a roar. Laying in the dirt was his son. His small, frail ten year old body cut through the chest. Olek scooped him up and cradled him, tears running down the hard lines of his face. "Oh Sven, I'm sorry boy. I'm so sorry" he sobbed.

It had been three days since Olek had buried the corpse of his fallen son. He had rode relentlessly, following the tracks of the raiders and resting only when absolutely nescessary. The snow was as thick as ever and the trail had been easy to follow.

Now though, the night was coming on quick, the sky turning a myriad of different colours as the sun set low behind distant mountains. Olek was laid flat to the ground, at the rise of a tall hill. Far below him, the band of raiders had set up camp. Smoke drifted lazily around them from cook fires and to the far end of the camp a pair of wagons filled with human prisoners stood.

Olek had spent days believing the raiders were human, but as he looked down he knew without a doubt that this was far worse... they were Orcs, and each of them looked armed to the teeth and battle hardened.

Olek would not back down though, these monsters had killed his son, his wife and the rest of his kinsmen. He had nothing left to live for and would gladly die in battle, avenging the spirits of his fallen family.

Olek shuffled back so he'd be out of sight before rising to his full height and unclipping the butterly bladed axe. He would circle the camp, pick off their scouts, free the prisoners and take down as many of the bastards as he possibly could.

With fire in his heart and determination set upon his face, Olek set out to his grim task.

 

[Byrd Man]

Amun wasted no time in rolling towards a marble overhang that protected him from the beast's infernal flames, which blinded him from seeing the fate of his friends.

Once the jet subsided, he returned fire with his magical bow, which angered the dragon more than hurt it. The beast reached down with it's jaws, snapping at the Egyptian warrior, who slashed back with his sword.

"My friends! If any of you still take in breathes, I could use some help!"

BOOM!

One of the Docktore's bombs explodes next to the dragon's flesh, pushing the massive beast a bit off his haunches.

"Something tells me this will not work."

Turning on his heels, he runs out the room and down the halls of the school. Even though his time in this school was short, he did know a trick or two about the school...if it was still there.

"I shall return!"

 

[SenseiofCheese]

BOOM!

"Something tells me this will not work."

Turning on his heels, he runs out the room and down the halls of the school. Even though his time in this school was short, he did know a trick or two about the school...if it was still there.

"I shall return!"

The massive beast let out a furious roar, one that shook the entire building. Pieces of the ceiling broke off and rained down on the heroes as the dragon slammed it's tail against one of the walls.

"Well, this is new." Gunnar muttered. He had read about the winged beasts of the West. Horrid beasts, and judging by what they did to Athens, a group of less than 10 seemingly stood no chance

Another mighty roar from the dragon was followed by countless books tumbling off shelves. "Beast! Back from whence you came!" Gunnar met the dragon's scream with his own.

Reaching deep down into his very soul, Gunnar called upon the druidic magicks he had studied for years. He stretched out his hand and, in perfect harmony with his surroundings, took a limited control of the Earth. The ground on which the School stood shook, before the floors cracked and moved apart. With it's hind legs caught in the crumbling floors, the dragon stumbled.

"Charge!"

 

[Catman_prb]

"Charaun sends his regards", the red dragon snorted as a cone of fire shot from it's mouth and poured into the suddenly cramped room...

In a second Kelvamin the Sword-Winder moved in front of the Irish girl, grabbing her arm and gripped the bard by the scruff of his tunic. He felt the flames lick across his back and the smell of burning flesh, before he focused on the location just on the other side of the door. He felt himself shift and pulled the two heroes with him. He dropped down to the ground, lowering Aithne down slowly. He winced; the robes on his back had been burned away or charred black by the dragon.

"Stay safe éinín," he hissed through gritted teeth, before shifting back onto the other side of the door.

"My friends! If any of you still take in breathes, I could use some help!"

"A worthy opponent," he said, smiling mildly, leaping at the dragon with his katana drawn. He brought the Japanese crafted sword down hard on the creature's hide. It rebounded off the scales, almost causing sparks. He tried to stab the dragon in the neck, but it bucked wildly and he was knocked onto the floor, his breath leaving him.

 

[SenseiofCheese]

"A worthy opponent," he said, smiling mildly, leaping at the dragon with his katana drawn. He brought the Japanese crafted sword down hard on the creature's hide. It rebounded off the scales, almost causing sparks. He tried to stab the dragon in the neck, but it bucked wildly and he was knocked onto the floor, his breath leaving him.

Gunnar watched the man bravely, perhaps foolishly, rush the temporarily downed dragon. But it failed, and the Sword Winder was knocked to the ground. With a horrid noise that sounded like laughter, the dragon lifted one of it's legs above the downed Kelvamin. "Hah! Your human crafted steel has no chance of felling me, insect!" it cackled, as it brung it's gigantic foot down towards Kelvamin.

"No!"Gunnar the Tame sprang to action, making a mad dash towards his downed ally. Once again he reached down into his essence, and with a spark of power, the slightly broken door to the School burst open as a gust of wind made it's way inside. The wind went to Gunnar´s back, and as the Viking reached down and grabbed Kelvamin, pushed the two heroes out of danger's way.

The ground shook violently as the dragon's foot slammed down onto the floor. "The Lich would send a worthless peon such as you to kill us?" Gunnar shouted towards the monster. He knew from his reading that a dragon's hide would not be pierced by any mere blade; but it's pride was that much more fragile. "Turn and run, beast, before we bring you to your knees."

 

[Catman_prb]

Gunnar watched the man bravely, perhaps foolishly, rush the temporarily downed dragon. But it failed, and the Sword Winder was knocked to the ground. With a horrid noise that sounded like laughter, the dragon lifted one of it's legs above the downed Kelvamin. "Hah! Your human crafted steel has no chance of felling me, insect!" it cackled, as it brung it's gigantic foot down towards Kelvamin.

"No!"Gunnar the Tame sprang to action, making a mad dash towards his downed ally. Once again he reached down into his essence, and with a spark of power, the slightly broken door to the School burst open as a gust of wind made it's way inside. The wind went to Gunnar´s back, and as the Viking reached down and grabbed Kelvamin, pushed the two heroes out of danger's way.

The ground shook violently as the dragon's foot slammed down onto the floor. "The Lich would send a worthless peon such as you to kill us?" Gunnar shouted towards the monster. He knew from his reading that a dragon's hide would not be pierced by any mere blade; but it's pride was that much more fragile. "Turn and run, beast, before we bring you to your knees."

The dragon's tail swept at the pair with a surprising speed. Kelvamin dropped his friend to the ground, his katana sliding across the floor.

"Insolent bugs! I will teach you the true meaning of fear," the Dragon cried.

"I'll distract the dragon," he whispered "you find a way to bring it down,"

"Insects, bugs, insolence," Kelvamin shouted to the dragon "how many years have you had to perfect your witty repartee? And it's always with the insects!"

The dragon swiped with one of it's large claws, which he dived under. Kelvamin leapt up onto the creature's leg, using it as a jumping point to reach onto the dragon's back. He grabbed a hold of a scale as Firastekles attempted to shake him off. The creature flapped it's wings once and it began to rise. It took the swordsman a second to work out what was about to happen. Then he swore for the first time since his apprenticeship began. Firastekles crashed through the ceiling and up into the black sky over Athens in an attempt to rid itself of the irritation on it's back.

 

[Carnage27]

Amun watched as Kelvamin was carried into the night sky by the great beast. No sooner were they out of sight when the doors of the chamber exploded, and in rushed a horde of skeletal warriors, with a Norse zombie at their lead.

"A knights work is never done," he whispered to himself as he engaed the nearest skeleton. He slashed at his foe, but was parried by the undead's mace, and was driven back from a kick by a boney foot.

The skeleton charged the sun warrior, who roll out of the way and dislodged the aggresors right leg in the process. Amun finished his roll by unstrapping his bow from his back and felling two other skeletons as they entered the chamber.

He backed up towards the Irish spell caster, making sure nothing could hurt the girl, "We seem to be incredibly popular."

 

[Johnny Blaze]

The attack was a fast as it was brutal. Rothgar had a run-in with a dragon before, a black wyrm in the marshlands of Briton, and it had taken a dozen warriors to fell the beast.
In this confined space they wouldn't last long.

Slapping out the remaining flames on what was left of his tunic, Rothgar gave a war cry and dove at the dragon's leg, slicing into it's tough hide with Banahogg. The magical blade dug into the creature's flesh, drawing blood. But the dragon appeared to simply be annoyed and flicked it's leg, sending Rothgar crashing into a wall.

The Viking winced as he rose to his feet. The impact had broken his right forearm.

One more to add to the list, Rothgar thought of the injury as he pushed past the pain and stood tall once more.

The beast then crashed through the ceiling with Kelvamin in tow, sending chunks of debris crashing down on top of them.

Seconds past and a deathly calm fell over the room.

"Is everyone all right", Rothgar shouted as he recovered from the dragon's departure.

But before any could reply, a horde of undead rushed in from the battered doors...

 

[twylight]

The action happened too fast for Aithne to follow. Her she was pulled off her perch by Kelvamin, the 'bard' next to her. Brion shook his head and slowly dispersed into the air, his halter falling to the ground. Using a tendril of water Aithne pulled it to her. before raising a shield around the two of them. Her eyes wide she watched the dragon. The heat from it had caused invisible waves in the air and set on fire books in the room. Carefully working the water around the room she snuffed them out. It wasn't much but it kept her busy and her eyes off the fight that they seemed forced to lose.
It also explained her surprise when she realized Kelvamin was no longer with them as the dragon took flight.

"Is everyone all right?" Aithne stood up slowly taking in the damage. Her eye noticing the limpness of Rothgar's forearm. Inside she shook her head. She had medical training from her teacher, but at the rate this group was going...

"Where is-" Her words were cut short as undead broke through the singed doors, the tables sued as barricades weakened in the fires. Amun moved in front of her.

"We seem to be incredibly popular."
Summoning as much water as she could form the air she gathered up the group if undead coming towards them in a ball before willing it smaller, crushing them under it's weight. She let their crushed forms fall to the group as more continued to charge them. Creating a wall of water she pushed three back, crushing them against a wall.

"I don't think I like the feeling."

 

[SenseiofCheese]

No more than a second after Kelvamin had been rushed off into the skies by the beast Firastekles, the school was rushed by the undead. The gathered heroes were all quick to their defenses. Rothgar´s blade bathed the dark school in an eerie light; the undead charging the massive chamber with a bone chilling symphony of moans and cries.

"Come one! Come ALL!" Gunnar roared as the first three undead warriors rushed him. Their skeletal hands raised blades high into the air and swung. The first block Gunnar parried; sparks flew as the two blades crashed together. The second undead lunged at Gunnar, it's weapon missing Gunnar by no more than half an inch. "We will take you all on! Endless or not, this army of darkness will fall!" before the third zombie managed to bring it's sword down on it's prey, Gunnar once more made use of his magics. A thin column of fire sprung from the tip of his finger, his sorrow incarnate. It sailed through the air and within moments the undead warrior was bathed in flames. It stumbled wildly for a second, but Gunnar was far from finished. Once again he called upon the winds that surrounded them, and with a heavy push, the flaming skeleton was hurled back into a group of oncoming zombies and wight. The monsters collapsed, and were soon nothing more than a bonfire.

"You...always...were...skilled...young...brother..." the voice came from behind Gunnar, followed by the slow, delibarate unsheathing of a sword.

Before Gunnar turned, he knew the voice, yet somehow...he did not. It was somehow wrong. Ugly. A fond memory perverted.

"Björn.." Gunnar spoke softly. There was no joy in his voice. No relief. He merely hung his head in defeat.

"Yesssssss..." it hissed, venom lacing each word. "I always...told you I...would some day lead...my own army."

"Well...what...do you think?"