Tales of Faerun

[Flipout6]

Seizing the moment, Weyland drew his enchanted blade and dashed out from behind the rock, charging right at the nearest soldier he could get to (though not yelling. If they managed to cut down one or two before they were noticed, all the better.) and struck him down, the lightning enchantment on his longsword being amplified by the metal chainmail the slaver wore. He cried out as his blood sprayed into the air for a brief moment, and then collapsed.

 

Amendale didn't move much, advancing to the front rock and preparing a spell. He spotted an archer off to the edge of the camp and fired an acid arrow at him. The poor man was engulfed in corrosive liquids and fell to the ground, screaming, as the acid hissed and steam rose from him. Grimacing at the painful fate awaiting the man, Amendale fired another arrow at another target and dropped him as well.

 

 

Weyland rushed the next man, who wore medium armor and drew a heavy, two-handed blade. Weyland struck first, nearly gutting him with the initial swing before the Zhent had his guard up. Weyland struck twice, three times, but didn't manage to get a hit in. At a fourth strike, the Zhent parried the blow with his massive blade and rebuffed Weyland, leaving him to defend himself against several powerful, trained blows. Weyland's arm nearly went numb when he absorbed a blow with his shield, but he made up for it by kicking his opponent off balance and finishing him off with a sword thrust that pierced his armor and went straight through him, while the electrical current from his enchantment delivered a nasty jolt to his system that finished him off.

 

 

Amendale had come under assault by a sly figure who thought he'd sneak up from behind. One of his daggers plunged into Amendale's back, striking the shoulder-blade but not inflicting any particularily serious wounds. He drew his blade and struggled to defend himself as the rogue attempted to finish him off, a task severely hampered by his wounded shoulder, but was saved by Weyland, who kicked him and sent him reeling.

 

 

He let out a shout that most of the camp could hear, as well as the man he'd just sent sprawling. "Come on! Bet you girls can't take on a real man!" He was of course not feeling that confidence and was quite sure he'd be coming out of this fight battered, but it drew their attention away from Amendale and his other allies. Amendale took the opportunity to swiftly heal himself.

[GrueMaster]

A small group of of four slavers gathered and began running towards Weyland and Amendale. The leader of the small band began to bark orders. "You two! Move up an- URRRGH!" The man let out a gurgled moan as he was lifted upwards, a bloodied, clawed hand sticking out from his chest. The other three slavers looked on in horror as their sergeant's head was torn off, the blood showering the area.

 

The blood rained down, revealing the hulking figure of Tak'we as it misted on his chitin. He let out a gut-wrenching scream as he tossed the body aside, then the other three slavers began screaming as the thri'kreen attacked and began rending them as well...

 

 

Kalin rolled under a Zhent's blade as it cut the air above him. He swung his katana, trying to wound the man, but the bastard was wearing strong armor, apparently. The fight wasn't going well for the elan; the Zhent warrior was as easily skilled as he was, and Kalin was fighting with a weapon that he wasn't an expert with. "Damnation!" he cursed as his sword was sent flying out of his grip.

 

Time slowed down for Kalin. Oh, screw it! he thought, disregarding his reluctance to use his powers. He formed his mindblades, catching the Zhent's sword easily, then burned him down with a firebolt. "Alright, who's next?"

[josh900]

Out of the corner of his eye, Tannin saw a man charging at him with a large two handed sword arched back ready to swing. Rolling out of the way of the first swing, he brought his sword up to try and parry the second only to have it snap in two when the blades connected. Tannin looked at the broken thin with his mouth open in shock. "I Stole this from a dragons lair!" He gasped as the slaver smirked.

"Not too smart huh?" The slaver laughed.

"In hindsight no." Tannin said as he moved the fingers on his left hand around in a complex pattern. The slaver noticed however and laughed again. "You trying to charm me or something wizard? Got protection against that, A sword that snaps in two, spells that don't work. Got nothen left don't cha?" The slaver said arching the sword over his head, ready to deliver a killing blow.

"Naught but my hands and feet it seems." Tannin said before delivering a kick straight into the slavers un-armored groin, causing him to drop his sword and fall to his knees clutching himself in pain. Two blows to the face, an open palmed strike to the temple, and finishing off with an uppercut to the slavers through, crushing his windpipe added to the list spelled the end of the slaver. Unable to breath he lay at Tannin's feet now clutching at his throat, eyes bulging out and mouth opened in a silent scream. His body writhed around the ground as he desperately trying to pull in oxygen that he would never receive.

"And now." Tannin said as he reached down and pulled a sheathed dagger from the slavers belt. "I have an ugly dagger." He said pulling it out and examining it. "Beggars can't be choosers I suppose." He looked down at the man who was now clutching Tannin's boot. He stepped on the man's arm with his other foot. loosening the man's grip before taking a step back and tipping a nonexistent hat to the man. "Cheers." He said before walking away whistling to himself, leaving the man to writhe on the ground until he eventually suffocated.

Edited March 8, 2013 by josh900

[Flipout6]

"Amendale, get to a safer distance. Usual tactics." Weyland grunted to Amendale before he turned his attention to his attackers-to-be as they gained the support of an archer from the rear ranks, who was just barely avoiding the blazing fire that was their tents. He fired an arrow at Weyland, who blocked it with his shield before the other two closed to melee range and began their assault, which proved incredibly difficult for the fighter to keep at bay. Oftentimes he had to parry with both his sword and shield, leaving little room to attack, which was an incredibly dangerous situation once the archer in the rear laid down a suppressing fire that forced Amendale behind cover, nearly clipping him in the process. Weyland barely glanced him preparing another spell.

 

A swift snapping kick ensured that the Zhent to Weyland's right was open for a split second, a split second that Weyland used to swing at him. It was a quick strike which while accurate, wasn't particularily powerful due to the hasty nature of the sword stroke. Still, it jolted him and made him bleed, which allowed Weyland time to parry a blow from the Zhent's ally to his left and rush forward through the two of them, and charged the archer keeping Amendale suppressed. By the time the men behind him had recovered, Weyland had cut the archer down (with difficulty, he had been very agile.) and allowed Amendale the breathing room he would need. Weyland sprinted back towards his pair of opponents, using the weight of his shoulder to hit one of them and knock him over. He wasn't allowed to finish the job, however, and was forced by a rapid flurry of precise swings from the wounded Zhent to adopt a defensive position. Like him and Amendale, these two were working as a team, like experienced warriors.

 

He was perhaps at his best when he was fighting defensively, but Weyland still find it difficult to defend against this particular fellow. His strikes were calculated and efficient, and he used the momentum from each attack to speed right into the next one. The variation between where he struck, such as going from Weyland's legs to his head, ensured that he was unpredictable. Weyland looked to his right to see if the other one was getting up, but Amendale had seen fit to impale him while he was down, finishing him off. Following their tried-and-true tactics of providing support via spellcasting, Amendale blasted him with an acid arrow. Disoriented and in burning agony, the man screamed as his armor and skin melted. Weyland didn't strike him because the acid covering him would eat away at the metal on his sword, but Amendale stepped forward and the man suddenly caught fire, burning like the desert sun. A combustion spell, then. Weyland took a moment to recover.

 

"Thanks." He said.

 

"You killed the archer, we're even."

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine winced as she saw the fire. She had hoped they could take what supplies they could from the Zhents and slavers once the foes were gone, but it was no matter now. A slaver scrambled from one of the burning tents, heading straight towards her. Noticing the battle around him, he drew a pair of scimitars and fixed his eyes on her, shouting a battle-cry and charging the Favored Soul with weapons swinging.

 

The two met with sparks flying, black silhouettes against the now blazing fire. In the light, Rhaine could see that the man was one of the native Bedine, garbed in loose clothing and light leather. He made the mistake of swinging to widely in his panic, and the tip of her blade tore through his cuirass, leaving a clean slice through treated hide, cloth, and flesh. Gasping, he stumbled backwards and dropped his weapons, clutching at his wound...which now bled freely. His wide brown eyes met hers.

 

"If you fear your Judgment, then flee, slaver!" she hissed, her holy symbol flashing in the firelight.

 

Without hesitation, the man ran, plowing through the darkness and screaming all the while.

 

Suddenly, there was the sound of steel grating against a scabbard...Rhaine whirled around to see a gigantic hulk of a man bearing down on her with a greatsword. She barely had enough time to dodge the powerful overhanded blow that came whirring down at her faster than the wind; she dropped and rolled to the side, the giant blade burying itself in the dirt where she had been standing only seconds before.

Edited March 8, 2013 by AurianaValoria1

[GrueMaster]

"By the Nine Hells..." Azhad looked on in cold fearn as he saw Tak'we rip his men apart limb from bloody limb. This wasn't the slave he'd been sent to capture. That creature could be predicted. This was something different, something far darker and terrible. Suddenly in fear for his life, the Calishite turned and ran, trying to put as much distance between him and the savage monster known as Tak'we.

 

Tak'we finished off the last of the four slavers he'd ambushed, a scene of bloody carnage carnage around him. "AZHAD!" he screeched, seeing the dark softskin running away in terror. "THIS ONE WILL TEAR YOU APART!" He began to pursue the slaver, easily closing the distance between them. The thri'kreen pounced on Azhad, nearly crushing the man with the impact.

 

He lifted the Calishite, claws cutting into flesh. "THIS IS FOR TIC'CHE!" he shrieked, then began to pull the softskin apart slowly. Azhad began to scream in pain as his bones began to pop and dislocate. Tak'we was about to finish the deed when he saw a massive man nearly kill Rhaine. He hissed in frustration, having completely forgotten about his friends.

 

Clicking angrily, the thri'kreen bit Azhad, sending a massive dose of poison coursing through the man's veins, then dropped him like a ragdoll. Tak'we then charged and tackled the man attacking Rhaine, grappling with the man as they rolled in the sand. "Sstay away from clutchmates!" he screeched again, then gave a pained gasp as the softskin kicked him off and retrieved his greatsword from where it had fallen. The thri'kreen clicked angrily as he got up and began circling the man, trying to figure out how to get past the sword without getting hit.

 

 

Kalin was hard-pressed once more as two more Zhents closed in on him. The two mercenaries had obviously fought together before, as they were well-coordinated, one defending the other as they were exposed while attacking him. Godsbedamned! the elan cursed inwardly, forced to fight defensively. I can't even get a shot in! Mindblades blocking yet another blow that came too close to his head for his liking, Kalin called out. "Hey, would anyone mind helping me out?" He grunted as a blade nicked his arm. "Sometime soon would be nice..."

[Brutii]

Carnifex Daud stood next to another assassin. The other assassin was about the same height as Carnifex, but was much stronger. His right hand was bandaged, but otherwise he seemed fine. That was until he opened his mouth, the front of his tongue was mangled. But this did not effect how he spoke, and speak he did

"I've got the ledger here" The assassin handed Carnifex a book, Carnifex read over it

Croonigan – Eliminated, 3500 coins paid

Sollard – Location unknown

Elizabeth – Abducted, delivered, 4000 coins paid

Boothe – Eliminated, payment refused. Employer eliminated, 2000 coins looted

Sontra- Eliminated, 5000 coins paid

 

Carnifex scribbled something in the ledger, then said "He spoke. Told me where Sollard is, I'm leaving. Keep a watch for my return" he handed the ledger back, the assassin nodded his head and quickly rushed off. Carnifex turned and left. The location wasn't that far away, that is how the target had managed to stay hidden for so long. He had been right under their noses. It wouldn't take long to reach, he was sure of that at least.

Edited March 8, 2013 by Brutii

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine wasted no time in getting up; thanks to Tak'we's intervention, she was able to re-orient herself. The "battle" had turned into an outright massacre, blood staining the sands and sparse oasis grass. Most of the slavers and Zhents were too foolish to run...for now.

 

Noticing that Tak'we now circled her former opponent, she waited until the man had his back turned before plunging Touch of Death into him from behind, the blade easily punching through his chain armor. Kalin's sudden cry for assistance pulled her from the thri-kreen in an attempt to aid the Elan as well; she sent a Harm spell in the direction of one of his assailants, causing the man to suddenly suffer lacerations and internal bleeding. He fell to the ground like a stone.

 

She was unable to take on the second foe, however, as there was a distinct crunching noise...a throwing knife had embedded itself in her right thigh, sailing cleanly between two metal plates and slicing through her leather breeches. The wound was not as deep as it could have been, but it was painful, and elicited a sharp cry from the Doomguide. Anger in her emerald eyes, she tore the knife from her leg and spotted her new foe: a female slaver who already had two more knives ready...

 

...they were never thrown. Two crossbow bolts came out of nowhere, first hitting the slaver in the abdomen, then the neck. There was no doubt as to where the bolts had come from. Taking this brief moment of respite to heal her wound, Rhaine glanced around. They had managed to take down almost half of the encampment, and several more of the mercs and slavers were running. The horses and camels were raising quite a ruckus, being tethered close to the blaze that now consumed the tents and supplies.

Edited March 8, 2013 by AurianaValoria1

[josh900]

Seeing that most of their enemies were fleeing the scene Tannin decided to duck out of the way of any more conflict and into a non-burning tent, hoping that maybe he could find something of value. Instead he found two bodies and a Jaxion sitting in a chair in a relaxed pose. Jaxin looked to Tannin and raised his hands. "Oh dear me, I've been cornered.... I surrender." He said with his words dripping with sarcasm. He then rolled his eyes. "But seriously. There's no point in me fighting you, youuur friends out there would.... kill me, even if i managed to beat you unarmed. So just..... Go ahead and tie me up. I've played this game before." He said almost purring certain words.

"Got a better idea." Tannin said with a smirk before uttering a quick incantation. The spell then Caused Jax's eyes to cross before he fell forward, hitting the ground with a thud he immediately began to lightly snore.

[Flipout6]

The enemy was losing hope, morale fading, as their tents burned, their leader was killed, and their friends left as bloody, lifeless corpses (especially bloody in the case of whatever Tak'We decided to kill.) Many of them still fought, but many fled, a fact that Weyland lamented. He wanted to gut them, they deserved no less.

 

Still, he focused on the task at hand, which was eliminating those who valiantly (Or foolishly, depending on one's perspective.) continued to fight. They had lost hope, however, and it showed in their attacks, which were weaker, less accurate, and more clumbsy. While they were still undoubtedly formidable foes, they were not as ferocious as they had been five minutes ago, and far less organized. It was the second factor that really tipped the balance in the party's favor, as perhaps the greatest strength of the Zhents and the slavers were their ability to fight coherently as a team.

 

Weyland advanced forward, stepping over the bodies of the two men he had killed moments before, locking swords with a demoralized slaver who was clearly terrified. Weyland turned out to be significantly stronger than him, and he shoved the slaver's weapon to the side, leaving him wide open to the backlash of Weyland's sword, cutting his stomach wide open. He grasped at the injury, barely keeping his insides inside, and collapsed onto his back, only to be finished off by a blade through the heart. The screaming of a Zhent made his ears ring, and Weyland cringed as the victim's corpse hit the ground beside him, yet another who had fallen to Amendale's armor-eating acid arrows.

 

A mace came flying through the air seemingly out of nowhere. Weyland's reflexes allowed him to try and block the blow with his shield, but the mace's wielder feinted at last moment and slammed into Weyland's hand, breaking several knuckles and the entire wrist. He dropped his blade into the dirt with a cry of pain and blocked the next blow with his shield. Amendale, also engaged with one of the few targets who hadn't fled, only spared the time to heal Weyland's hand and wrist before re-engaging. Several bones slid underneath Weyland's skin and cracked back into place painfully, only for that pain to be instantly relieved, similar to when one dislocated a shoulder.

 

With no time to pick his sword back up, Weyland blocked the next blow and quickly left his shield in the sand. Before his foe could let fly another blow, Weyland had thrown himself forward and tackled him, bringing them both down into the dirt. The slaver's mace flew out of his hand and just out of his reach, and instead he opted for his dagger. He brought it up towards Weyland's stomach, but the fighter caught his wrist in mid-flight, twisted it as hard as he could, and disarmed him. He kicked the dagger out of reach, stood up on his knees, and beat the slaver senseless, bloodying his gauntlets, and the slaver lay stunned and sluggish. Taking advantage of this, Weyland strategically placed his hands on the man's head and snapped it violently to the left, breaking his neck and killing him instant;y. Unarmed training had its advantages. He stood up and grabbed his equipment, striking Amendale's foe across the back with his blade as he did so.

 

"Looks like we've nearly won!" he cheered to his friends.

Edited March 9, 2013 by Flipout6