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[AurianaValoria1]

***This is the RP thread for Shadows of Corruption. For the discussion thread, see here.***

[AurianaValoria1]

They were everywhere.

 

It was impossible to complete the mission. They had gone down a fork in the Deep Roads that eventually broke off into a lava river, and an army of darkspawn had sensed them down a side passage. They were now nearly surrounded, hundreds of the foul creatures pouring from every cavern and crevice, and if they did not retreat now, they would all quickly perish...

 

Half their expedition was already dead, pounced upon before most could even react. Hellish archers rained arrows on them, and an ogre outfitted in spiked armor was charging down their most stalwart of warriors. Celeste tried her best to counter them and give her comrades a fighting chance, slinging frost spells and spirit magic at them and doing significant damage...

 

...but she had just quaffed her last mana potion - the vial shattering on the stone of the Deep Roads - and it would not be long before she would fizzle out...

 

Ser Gabriel stood in front of her, planted like a rock wall, shield raised to protect her from any projectiles and ensure she could use her healing powers if necessary. Both of them were at a slight distance from the rest of the group as they desperately tried to stand their ground and push back the darkspawn's advance. Never had she been more thankful for his presence than she was now, and she poured most of her protective magic into him, whenever he had to beat back stray hurlocks or genlocks...

 

It was becoming obvious, however, that this was a losing battle. The surviving members began backing away as they fought, towards the one corridor that was left unblocked by waiting darkspawn. Shouts of "Retreat!" were heard over the clash of shields and swords, and Celeste did not need to be told twice. She was gasping for air and shaking, nearly deprived of all her mana, and Ser Gabriel began forcibly pushing her backwards with his armored body, keeping her on the move despite her weariness. She defiantly hurled a Winter's Grasp over the Templar's shoulder at a charging hurlock and froze it in place as they began to retreat in earnest, turning and running down the empty corridor and back the way they had initially come.

 

What happened next seemed to occur in slow motion for Celeste as she glanced backward and made sure the Templar was following her. Flashes of memory became mixed in flashes of the present, and the clatter and clank of armor faded to silence as the scene unfolded before her eyes...

 

She saw Ser Gabriel as he stood in a shadowed corner, keeping watch over her as she studied. She remembered the feeling of sickness and fear...and trying to ignore the very large, shining, silver, hunk of metal that glinted in the moonlight streaming from the tower window and distracted her so she could not read...

 

The Templar suddenly halted in his tracks, his sword and shield slipping from his grasp as a crossbow bolt protruded from his throat, just under the bottom of his winged helm...

 

She remembered her first accompanied walk with Ser Gabriel around Lake Calenhad, the Templar noticeably following far enough behind that she could not chatter his ear off as they went...

 

He slowly sank to his knees, a gauntleted hand reaching towards her as he fell...

 

She remembered the explosions in the Circle, the advance of the demons, and then suddenly plummeting away from the tower as Ser Gabriel smashed through the third story window and leapt through with her tight in his grip, the pair crashing into Lake Calenhad and nearly drowning as they struggled to swim to safety on the other side of the frigid water...

 

She screamed his name but did not hear it, her mouth open but her ears deafened, her pale blue eyes wide, "Gabriel, NOOO!" A sword then punched through his breastplate an inch from behind as he was stabbed through the back, the tip crusted with blood, and all she could do was keep screaming, her voice shrieking but unheard by herself, "Nooo, NOOOO!"

 

Their journey here, their small talks, her family, his family, their future...

 

None of it meant anything anymore.

 

Her blood ran colder than any spell could have made it, her stomach turned, and she lost her own footing. The harsh, terrible, terrifying world went black before her eyes as she fell unconscious...

[FreemasonGamer]

Maker, I'm too old for this...

 

In hindsight, Abraham despised how he did not question further the safety or likelihood of survival involved in this seemingly damned expedition into the Deep Roads in search of the legendary treasures of the lost thaigs of old. All the veteran warrior had done was listen to what those merchants had to say before a weighty bag of glittering sovereigns convinced him that everything else would sort itself out. The Blight has just ended, Abraham thought to himself before the expedition had begun, How bad could be Deep Roads possibly be?

 

As scores upon scores of Darkspawn poured from every crag and crevice in the cavern, the former Templar acknowledged with each cleaving swing of his greatsword, Tempest, how the stupidity that had gotten him into this mess might very well be his doom. Again and again he swung Tempest as spectacular yet gruesome sprays of inky-black blood cascading from the silverite blade's gleaming surface with each swing. It seemed as though for every one Hurlock or Genlock Abraham slew, two or three more appeared to take its place.

 

Blistering fatigue and painful injury rebelled against Abraham's every attempt to attack, defend, or evade. Fear tickled his mind and taunted his heartstrings as he caught glimpses of his fellow sellswords falling to the tide of Darkspawn, one after another. "Retreat!" Abraham roared over the deafening howl of battle, the simple word tasting like ash in his mouth, "Retreat to Orzammar! Run!"

 

Suddenly, a woman's desperate shrieking pierced through the numbing hum of the fight, demanding the warrior's attention. Through the visor of his helmet, Abraham saw one of the mages of their scattered expedition collapse onto the blood-soaked stone floor with Darkspawn closing in on her from all sides. Heaving Tempest upward as the enchanted blade emitted both a faintly chilling frost and the occasional crackle of electricity, the warrior ushered the most imposing battle cry he could muster before surging forward, clearing a path through the enemies with one hefty swing followed by one, two, three more.

 

His arms, legs, and back all ached with an almost unbearable soreness, but Abraham continued  to push forward, cutting deeper into the swelling tide of Darkspawn until he reached the mage's motionless form. Unable to spare the moment it would have taken to check if she was even still alive, the former Templar heaved the woman's dainty body onto his left shoulder, holding Tempest with only his right hand as he carriedd the woman. While it was far from proper blade etiquette to wield such a greatsword one-handed, Abraham had little choice as he half-held, half-carried the mage on his left shoulder while charging towards the tunnel they had followed from the surface.

 

"Retreat for Orzammar if you can!" He shouted to any of his companions who might have still been alive; he hardly knew any of the other mercenaries and cutthroats who had accompanied him, but no one deserved such a hellish fate as being consumed by these infernal Darkspawn. Suddenly, fresh pain clawed into the small of Abraham's back, and the pain continued to gnaw at him, attempting to leech what little vigor he might have had left. Gritting his teeth, Abraham recognized the biting pain of the Life Drain spell, and he gambled the risk of turning to face the Genlock Emissary that had cast the entropy spell.

 

Shakily raising Tempest and pointing it at the charging cluster of Darkspawn, the former Templar desperately tried to focus as he fought to channel his dwindling stamina. Thankfully, his Holy Smite flashed from the cross-guard of his blade, stunning the Darkspawn in close proximity of the targeted Genlock Emissary with painful light before showering them all in holy flame. Unable to linger for a moment longer to witness the Darkspawn and the Emissary in particular writhe and wail in pain, Abraham turned back towards the tunnel that was their only means of escape or survival and rushed onward, staggering every few steps with the unconscious mage still on his shoulder.

Edited by FreemasonGamer, 01 January 2016 - 01:31 AM.

[Macman253]

When he accepted the contract to accompany an expedition into the Deep Roads he had not planned on fighting off an army. Wind, the lithe Dalish assassin turned knife-for-hire stood on a rock, he knocked an arrow and loosed it into the skull of a pursuing Hurlock. His companions were either dead or fleeing, he heard a loud voice behind him call for them to return to the surface. The assassin felt obliged to agree with his suggestion. Wind knocked another arrow, fired it into the chest of a Genlock and leaped off the rock with a backwards flip, landing deftly on the jagged roads and immediately bursting into a sprint up the tunnel to the surface.

 

He turned briefly to fire another arrow into the horde following them. It stuck into a Genlocks head, the darkspawn had just enough time to clutch the shaft of the arrow before stumbling forward and landing flat on his face, the black bloodied arrowhead protruding from the back of the darkspawn's skull.

 

"I know I said I would accept death when it came." He thought as he ran after his companions and knocked another arrow. He looked over his shoulder and fired almost blindly as he followed. "But I am not yet ready to die." He said as he ran, his legs pounding on the once finely crafted cobblestone roads, the sound of his footsteps drowned out by the horde of metal boots beating on the stone behind them, his voice nearly vanished among the growls, roars and the other bone chilling sounds that Darkspawn can make when their bloodthirst is up.

Edited by Macman253, 13 December 2015 - 08:27 PM.

[AurianaValoria1]

Celeste was completely unaware of the chaos unfolding around her as the burly ex-Templar held her over his shoulder like a potato sack whilst charging towards potential safety. Indeed, her mind did not even enter the Fade as she remained in cold unconsciousness. The darkspawn followed with endless energy, cutting down any who stumbled or fell behind. The band's numbers dwindled further and further in this way, and it gave the remainder plenty of incentive to push themselves even harder as they ran for their lives. A sharp bend in the corridor and a larger road was just ahead, and this road would eventually lead straight back to Orzammar...

 

As if the Maker himself were giving the group a sign of favor, that fast-approaching bend in the narrowing corridor appeared to be too tight for the larger darkspawn to make it though in any way but single file. If they could make it past that chokepoint, their chances of survival would increase dramatically...

[FreemasonGamer]

Dashing through the oppressive darkness with the occasional stumble or stagger, Abraham didn't bother to look behind him at the pursuing horde and kept a firm grip of both his blade and the unconscious mage on his left shoulder. The sight of the narrow bottleneck up ahead gave the aged warrior revitalized hope and compelled him to push himself as much as possible to reach it before the Darkspawn overwhelmed them. On either side of him, he did catch a few downright dreadful glimpses of other fleeing mercenaries being struck by a Darkpawn's arrow or spell before falling behind to be overtaken by those horrific creatures.

 

As he came ever closer to the bend in the corridor of ancient stone, Abraham felt reassured that he and at least a few others would live to see another day when the few ahead of them slipped around the sharp corner and out of sight. Just when the ex-Templar came within a few yards of the bottleneck, however, a muted pain erupted in his right shoulder, and the impact of the projectile lodging itself between the plates of his armor almost knocked the exhausted warrior to the ground. Struggling to keep his feet under him, Abraham grimaced intensely and heaved labored breaths before he barely managed to stagger around the bend with only one thought in his mind.

 

Don't you dare die...

[Macman253]

Wind heard the clanking thud of an arrow striking the Templar. The elf fired another arrow as he ran towards the Templar. Darkspawn arrows hitting the stone floor and walls around them, one striking the ground where Wind's foot just was. The Assassin growled, jumped and fired an arrow blindly over his shoulder as he landed on the stone earth.

 

"I don't want to alarm you Templar but there might just be a bloodthirsty horde of Darkspawn coming!" He yelled as he turned the corner, running passed the armored Human.

Edited by Macman253, 15 December 2015 - 07:53 AM.

[AurianaValoria1]

The darkspawn following the group began to falter as their charge led them straight towards the bottleneck. The ogres of the mob were forced to back down, turning their attention to the fresh meat that now littered the Deep Roads. The hurlock's unleashed one last wave of arrows, but the genlocks kept on charging, using their small height and speed to traverse the ever-narrowing corridor with ease. They were quickly gaining on Abraham, and any second they would reach him...

[nethgros]

Oren knew that this venture was full of sod the second he heard about it, and the current situation had been on his mind the whole time. Every dwarf knew better than to set out into the Deep Roads unprepared. Yet, here they were prancing about without any members of the Legion of the Dead, or the Grey Wardens. Every sell-sword was a skilled expert of combat in their own right, but none here were ready for this, Oren himself included.

 

He had stayed toward the back of the caravan the entirety of the trip, fully prepared to run for his life, which he valued much more than fulfilling a favor for his father. Though, he almost seemed extra twitchy this trip, which he could usually attribute to his smoking habits, but he kept occasionally hearing faint music...

 

Then, minutes before the onset on the massacre, he became absolutely sure he heard the music. He opened his father's lucky ring to find a small glowing red stone inside, which he had never seen before, from which a strange melody came forth. It was not altogether unpleasant, but the increase in tempo left him with a new-found sense of urgent dread. He looked at those nearby, who seemed not to notice the sound, before he stopped walking with the group. He decided to sit behind a fallen pillar and "soothe his nerves".

 

Rather he found that his break did not only clear his mind, but open it to the sound of the dread melody. He began to really listen, and almost appreciate the angry, violent song; it almost reminded him of rising up against all odds. However this was cut short when a loud cry echoed throughout the passageway. He turned to find himself facing a great horde, a dwarfs first nightmare, and he did not wait for Abraham's call for retreat to start running. Much to his dismay, his dwarven legs, even in this hour of great necessity, could not carry him as fast as he needed. Others began to pass him, and he looked around to see his fellows falling like flies.

 

But his golden opportunity was at hand, closing in on the bottleneck that could very well give them the fighting chance they needed to escape this futile mission. That was when he saw Abraham tumble some ways in front of him, succumbing to his wounds. As the templar fell to his knee, Oren found a new golden opportunity to win the affections of a beautiful woman. He moved very quickly, kicking him in the leg shouting, "Get your arse moving! I'd carry ye too if I had anymore arms!" he moved through, dropping a small healing potion next to Abraham and scooping Celeste's delicate frame from the the templar's shoulder, over both his own shoulders. Surely watching Oren carry this mage would've been funny, if not for their current circumstance. He continued the mad dash, struggling to keep up with those who still lived. Had he looked behind, he may have gone a bit faster, what with the threat of incoming genlocks imminent...

Edited by nethgros, 18 December 2015 - 08:46 AM.

[FreemasonGamer]

When Abraham stumbled forward and fell onto his knees after just managing to pass the narrow corner of the tunnel, he thought it was all over for the mage in his grasp and himself both. He felt the unconscious woman's form disappear from his shoulder, and his blurred vision hardly made any sense of his surroundings until a heavy boot struck his leg. While his racing heartbeat and the not so distant roar of the trailing Darkspawn deafened his hearing, the aged warrior recognized the healing potion that skidded across the stone floor and came to a delicate stop in front of him. The pear-shaped bottle's polished red surface vividly reflected Abraham's bloodstained armor, and he did not hesitate as he desperately grabbed the potion and clumsily lifted the visor of his helmet; never had he appreciated the bittersweet taste of a health potion as much as he did then as he fiercely guzzled the glass bottle's contents.

 

Once he had drained the glass vial of its contents, Abraham felt some of his pain alleviating into pleasant numbness. Dropping the empty potion with a dainty ring, he closed his visor and quickly staggered onto his feet... moments before a Genlock barreled into him like a charging bull, albeit a short one. Thrown forward from the collision, Abraham cursed incoherently before he firmly gripped the hilt of Tempest with both hands and violently swung the greatsword in a leftward arc. Much to the warrior's dull surprise, his blade discovered an entire semicircle of snarling Genlock advancing upon him with weapons and fangs bared.

 

That first swing managed to slice into the first three of the five approaching Genlocks, and Abraham fluently redirected the blade's momentum to strike again and again. By the third swing after mere moments, all five Genlocks lied either dead or dying at the old warrior's feet, and he glimpsed the incoming masses of Hurlocks before turning around and rushing after his comrades, his sprinting gait much more stable thanks to the nullified pain. Despite the numbing bliss of the healing potion, however, Abraham still felt the arrow wedged between the silverite plates protecting his right shoulder; with a fierce smolder, Abraham reached back with his left hand and removed the arrow with a painful roar, tossing it aside before he continued to rush onward towards his companions.