Post: #1

Vekarin spared once last glance out of his high window as his undead aides finished affixing his armor to his muscled body. Made of blackened steel plates, each segment of the complex armor was padded with furs so that is would make no noise as he moved. It would not afford him the protection of Kekarsarun's armor, but it was designed for stealth. The door to Vekarin's chambers creaked open as his armorers stood back, as if their sightless eyes were viewing their handiwork, and through it walked the black figure of Zosz, followed by yet another skeleton bearing a violet-wrapped bundle.
"The runes bode not well, my lord." The ancient necromancer rasped, his voice issuing from his empty hood, "Dark things are at work. The wisdom of this mission is in question."
Outside, Vekarin's eye caught a dark mist approaching from the mountains, and rain began to fall outside the citadel.
"You may question the mission, but I know we will prevail, Zosz. Even if we were in doubt, do you really think I would do any less?"
"No." Zosz rasped, his voice seeming to betray a flicker of amusment at his master's conviction. The hunched figure stepped aside, and allowed the skeleton bearing the long package to come forward. It bowed it's bleached head, offering the bundle to Vekarin, who carefully unwrapped it, and took from it a long sword that glowed and glinted in the sparse light cast from the braziers and candles in the room. Vekarin sheathed it quickly at his side and turned from the window to Zosz.
"I am ready, Necromancer."
Zosz stepped forward, muttering the arcane words of a spell, but stopped midway, transfixed by something his invisible eyes could see.
"Forsaken, finish the spell." Vekarin commanded, "What stops you?"
"I smell magic." The Necromancer replied, his gloved hand pointing out the stone portal. The dark mist now eveloped the outer walls of the fortress, and it seemed to be shrinking, solidifying.
"Zosz," Vekarin said calmly, "power the wards."
Zosz nodded and began to chant as the mist outside blew away to reveal ranks upon ranks of skeletal warriors, glowing blades clutched in their fleshless hands.
Vekarin turned quickly to his armorers.
"Kekarsarun's plate, now!" He commanded as their shriveled forms hurried out the door. He had already begun to tear off his armor when the first booming volley of cannon fire began the seige.

Post: #2

As the last tendrils of mist drew together they revealed the hooded forms of the Innocence, the Sentence, and the Executioner.
Steeping forward the Innocence looked around, apparently surprised at where they were. Before them was the vast army they had summoned, but instead of materializing outside of the walls, they were in the massive area between the outer wall and the Violet Citadel itself.
“It seems half of the battle has already been won,” the whispery voice said to other Dread Lords, “the wards of the outer walls are not active, allowing us to breach them.” Looking sharply at the Citadel he could see the sudden flare of power its own wards activated, no doubt due to their sudden appearance.
Suddenly booms filled the air as the keeps defenses responded to the threat. Cannon balls rained down upon them, each demolishing dozens of the skeletal warriors. The carnage was horrendous, yet if the Dread Lord’s were worried they gave no sign.
“Leave the cannon’s to me,” the Innocence said, “Carry out the plan. Executioner the Blood Dragon will no doubt come to the fore, as is the nature of his kind. He must not survive.”
“You know him then?” the Sentence questioned. Though nothing could be seen from under his hood the Innocence’s stance made it clear the question was unwelcome.
“I was here a lifetime ago,” he eventually responded, “I know how the filth thinks.” Not giving the Sentence a chance to respond he exploded into streams of mist that twisted in the air above the vast force. Suddenly they speed towards the citadel whirling round the main tower where the cannons were firing from. Moving faster and faster a powerful whirlwind surrounded the tower, blocking all sight of the army below. Inside the gunners looked trying to find the target, unaware of the growing danger.
As the whirlwind reached peak the pressure it created was immense. Suddenly with a crack one of the cannons broke loose of its bearings, sucked along with its crew. Seconds later some of the other crews followed, torn apart by the raging tempest. In the howling winds a whispering laughter could be heard followed by the words repeated over and over,
“Time to die Vekarin. Time to die.”

Post: #3

The massive iron doors of the Violet Citadel clanged open, and in a flash of violet lightning and bolts of blue fire that struck down many of the skeletal warrior near it, Vekarin strode out, resplendent in his glowing plate, the Dark Blade swinging in his gauntleted hand. Behind him strode several armored knights, at the head of many skeletons and wight warriors. With flashing blades and fearsome battle cries, the forces of the Violet Citadel began to fight back.

Post: #4

The Dark Lord Sentence chuckled coldly from beneath his cowl and raised his arms high
"Stand Ready Scum! Your end is at hand!" he called out, his magically enchanced voice ringing out.
Shadows began to gather and dance around the Dark Lord, undead that had fallen rising to fight once more.
Then bringing one hand down in a slashing gesture he screamed
"FORWARD!!"

As one the undead host of Skeletons and Wights moved forward to assault Vekarin's force.
With a whispered necromantic word he directed a great deal of the undead to attempt to assault Vekarin
I might not beable to beat you in combat bloodsucker but I can bury you under the weight of the countless dead of nagash!" he thought viciously.

Post: #5

Vekarin's blade cleaved several skeletons in two with each swing, those falling to his sword unable to rise again. For each one of his warriors that fell, they destroyed scores of their opponent but it was not enough, as ten more stepped up to replace those that fell. Even Vekarin's own undead soldiers were overwhelmed by the amount of enemies that pressed at them from all sides.
Vekarin's only hope lay in a group of figures that stood at the top of the Citadel, watching impassively the fight below. With a word, they cast their spells, raining fire down upon their enemies. Walls of flame erupted from the ground, consuming dozens of skeletal warriors as bolts of fire rained from the heavens, destroying yet more. Yet every one that fell stood back up again as the dark powers of the Dread Lords imbued it with a semblance of life once again. Even as the rain of fire was reaching a crescendo, it abruptly stopped, the infernal fires dying down and undead stepping to their feet once more, their bones blackened and weapons melted. The power of the Dread Lords could not be bested.

Post: #6

Whirling round the tower the Innocence was pleased with the devastation he had wrought. The wrecked cannons would of no more use to Vekarin in this battle. However they could still be of use to the Dread Lord.
Funneling upwards the mist twisted heading towards the top of the citadel. Seeing the danger coming their way the figures stood atop launched a barrage of spells at it but to no avail. The writhing stream was too fast and in moments it was above them, covering the sky. For a moment there was calm until with horror they realised what was happening. Dropping out of the sky came the tortured frames of the cannons, falling at a horrible speed.
One of them was too slow in reacting and for his efforts he was crushed, his body bursting like a ripe melon under the ton of metal and wood. The others moved faster, conjuring shields, destroying the cannons or turning them into something less harmless. Still another two were crushed whilst one of the barrels bounced off the building into the battle below.
Drawing himself back together the Innocence looked down at his work, standing on nothing high above the battle. Without warning pain wracked his body as something hit in the back. Such was its power that it blasted him out of the sky smashing into the top of the outer wall. He hit with enough force to crack it down to its base, yet even that was not enough to stop him. Looking upwards into the sky he sought for what had hit him. He found it in the shape of a beautiful woman atop a jet black dragon. He could see from here she was magically powerful and even as he watched powerful magic started to gather around her, this was starting to look interesting.

********************

"BANESPIKE!!" A deep voice bellowed over the battlefield as the Executioner swing his massive axe once more. The muscular moved so fast his strikes could not be seen. Yet there was no doubt about their power or effectiveness as each one crashed through scores of warriors, obliterating them. Catching site of the Vampire lord fighting in the distance he changed direction.
"BANESPIKE!" he bellowed once more, "YOUR FINAL DEATH IS HERE."

Post: #7

"You challenge me!?" Vekarin screamed at the approaching figure, his blade cutting down yet another Wight. He stepped over his opponent's broken skeleton, crushing armor under his massive boot.
"You cannot hope to prevail, Hellspawn of Nagash." Vekarin advise, "But I will challenge you."
Against his instinct, Vekarin readied his blade to fight the Executioner.

Post: #8

With a thud the Lesa landed on the top of the citadel, the shadow dragon disappearing into thin air. She had followed the army as fast as possible, but still it had managed to outdistance her. The bloody remains of the crushed necromancer caught her eye before she focused on the battle below.
It was clear the Dread Lords had the upper hand, the one who was clearly a Necrach was effortlessly casting over and over, resurrecting destroyed troops. Elsewhere the massive muscular form of another Lord cut threw his foes like they were children.
It was time to even things out. Opening her mind like she was first taught those many years ago she saw the weaves of magic that were coming from the Necrach. They were thick and strong, almost too strong for her…..almost being the key word. With a screamed word she ripped the weave apart, dispelling his magic and causing scores of the attacking skeletons and wights to literally fall apart. Immediately she felt his eyes upon her, the hate palpable even from where she stood.
Not giving him a chance to react she began to incant once more. The winds of light burned at her, as they did on any undead creature yet to have a chance of turning things in their favour it was something she had to do. Through the clouds above blinding light broke through, pushing aside the darkness as she spoke the last words of the spell. Immediately shards of pure energy shot down, devastating the forces below. The cleansing flare was deadly to all unnatural creatures and it proved its worth destroying many skeletons, wights and other creatures in its blast. Vekarin’s force whilst heavily hit was less affected thanks to their tendency to be more heavily armoured, whilst Vekarin himself was unfazed due to his magical armour.
Stepping back form the edge Lesa bent over for a moment, attempting to regain her energy. Such magic always drained her the most as it went against the very nature if her being, yet it had been worthwhile. Standing back up straight she started to walk back towards the edge, to see what the after effect was. She never made it. A sudden cold blast launched her off the top, twisting and tumbling in the air. As she fell suddenly she was launched upwards again, before being allowed to drop once more. All around her was darkness, the air being sucked out of her, rendering her speechless. Suddenly a hate filled voice rang in her ears.
“You will not stop us whore-bitch,”The voice whilst low and whispery was powerful and commanding and she had no doubt its bearer intended to kill her. Suddenly with a lurch she felt immense pressure on her, pushing down towards the rocks below. Faster and faster she dropped, the ground coming ever closer and she knew if she hit it at this speed she would be destroyed.

Post: #9

In a bright blaze of fire Lesa's fall was slowed exponentially, the change in speed lurching her as she drifted to the ground on a byre of flame, landing lightly on her feet. The bright flames, though seemingly real, did not burn her nor produce any heat as far as she could tell.
"She may not." A quite, rasping voice sounded from the top of the Citadel, "But it is apparent that I will."
Innocence spun quickly, dark robes flowing about him as a diminutive figure looked up as him from the edge of the tower. Within an empty hood Zosz sightless eyes took in the figure practically oozing power, as an invisible mouth spoke to it.
"Was I forgotten about?" Zosz laughed, "It would not be the first time. Deal with me if you must, but easy is something I will not make it."
With a snort of rage Innocence sent a powerful wind at the tiny figure, more than enough to knock the weightless Necromancer from his perch, but a wall of flame appeared before him, burning away the Dread Lord's attack. Innocence directed his full attention at the new threat even as Zosz sent a barrage of flame at his opponent. Lightning cracked and threatened to strike the Dread Lord, but dissipated as quickly as it appeared as the flame petered out mid flight. Before he could react a dozen bolts of dark energy pierced Zosz' body, and the stone before him exploded with such force that it pushed him off the needle top of the Citadel. Whirling about, dark smoke billowing from a hundred wounds, Zosz plummeted towards the ground, one word escaping his non-existent mouth.
"Heh."
And then he disappeared.

Post: #10

"Challenge me?" The Executioner swept his axe around, destroying everything within each. In moments the area was cleared, ready for the duel. For the first time the massive form of Vekarin found someone who could look into his eyes, as the Dread walked closer.
"You have signed your own death, fool." Suddenly he lashed, not with his axe but his fist. It bounced off Vekarin's armour but such was the force that it knocked the vampire back. Using the opening the Executioner swing his axe, ready to end this fight before it had even begun.

Post: #11

"Well dearest, it seems the party has already started."
Remarked Erick von Strauss from the back of his Varghulf mount, Zver.
"You always liked being fashionably late, how is this any different?"
said Laura von Strauss, Erick's wife mounted on a large black charger.

Laura was the same height as her husband, with pale skin and a fragile look that deceived the vampiric strength underneath, greater than that of a mortal, but less than other vampires. Her long hair was black at the moment and tied back tightly to not get in the way when the time came to draw swords.
Erick and Laura wore matching suits of armour colored black, but with blue decorational markings. Each suit had a black raven over a blue field over the chest peace. A living raven sat on Ericks shoulder, the bird seemingly unafraid of the vampire.
A green amulet formed the broach of Ericks cape,it was carved in the likeness of the Chaos Moon. The amulet pulsed with protective magics and shone green even when out of sunlight.
The two vampires watched the battle of the Citadel from a safe distance, neither side aware of their presence yet.

"I still dont understand why we should help these Vampires. If I am to understand it, their the ones who have threatened the destruction or conquest of our own lands."
She said, looking at her husband.
Erick sighed.
"Yes, the von Carstiens have threatened that possibility, and I fear their forces are to great for us to resist with success. Therefore, our only option at the moment is to play their game and hope for the best..."
"I don't like waring for these von Carstiens just for the hope they will grant us permission to rule our own lands...it smacks of weakness."
"Sometimes my dear, you must play with people you don't like to win the game."
Said Erick.

The two vampires waited awhile yet, simply watching the battle.
"Well...I guess its about that time."
Said Erick, he tapped the Varghulf with his heels. The beast reared up on two legs and howled, Erick pulling his sword, Soul Stealer from its sheath. As he did so, the Raven that had been perched on his shoulder took flight, flying towards the undead army, ready to fest on dead flesh.
The Varghulf and Erick charged towards the Undead, Laura and her black Nightmare just behind.

Post: #12

Vekarin's sword shot up faster than the eye could see, the black blade catching the axe's handle. Swinging the weapon out to the side, Vekarin flung his opponent's arm out wide, bringing the axe with it and giving Vekarin a needed opening. He rolled back quickly and leaped to his feet, readying his weapon for the next attack. It came swiftly as the Executioner's axe swung downward in a wide arc onto Vekarin's head. The Blood Dragon sidestepped, but only just as the weapon embedded itself in the ground where Vekarin was a moment before. Taking advantage of his opponent's momentary weakness, Vekarin attacked, lunging forward with the Dark Blade. The Executioner spun away, bringing the axe up as he did and knocking Vekarin away. Even as the vampire regained his balance, the Executioner attacked, swinging with the mighty axe. This time Vekarin waited, dodging each of the massive blows. Eventually the Executioner swung too wide, and Vekarin attacked, his sword sliding through the layers of thin cloth and piercing the Executioner's withered flesh beneath. The Dread Lord gave a grunt of discomfort, but did not show any other signs of pain or weakness, nothing to tell Vekarin that the Dark Blade's insidious power was working on him at all. In response, however, the Executioner brought his axe up, it's bearded head catching Vekarin's leg and with inhuman speed, the Executioner pulled on he weapon, pulling Vekarin down again. Grinning, the Dread Lord swung the axe around, ready to strike off Vekarin's head, but the Blood Dragon's gauntleted hand shot up, catching the axe's long handle. His strength was no match for the Executioner's, but Vekarin only hoped to delay his opponent for a split second. That he did, as the even Executioner had to hesitate for a moment, overpowering Vekarin's own strength. But it was enough for the Blood Dragon, as he rolled around, slicing into the Executioner's outstretched arm with the Dark Blade, rolling under the axe and jumping up once again.

Post: #13

Nelson had just killed the assasins that Neferata had sent after him and was on his way to somewhere when he sensed a battle going on. He went to take a closer look and saw one of Nagash's cursed necromancers had an army and was attacking the fortress of what looked to be that of a blood dragon by the way of things. Normally Nelson would have avoided a needless battle but he like a lot of other vampires hated the spawn of Nagash and so decided to help this blood dragon.

Then Nelson thought,"Could the master of this castle be worthy of my talnets?" He had to see, and so he jumped into the battle using his stealth to try and see if he could find the master of the castle. "There, that has to be him.",Nelson said for he was one of the biggest and most skilled fighters that he had seen and was fighting a great foe by the looks of it.

So Nelson started fighting his way towards the two great warriors. He took out his two warpstone laced daggers and cut down what looked like the Necromancer's army; clearing his way to the two great warriors and saw that one had just cut the others arm...

Post: #14

A shadow appeared through the midst of marching soldiers, appearing at first behind a regiment of wights, then a minute later, a hundred metres to the left. In this manner Draithon made his way closer to The Sentence, a shadow flitting across the battle, completely unnoticed by the soldiers he slithered past, devoid as they were of proper senses.

Occasionally a black blade flashed out, always from his left arm, severing the head of a authority figures, lesser liches and the like. Always the shadow made its way ever closer to the Dread Lord of Nagash.

At the rear of the battle, just behind the breached walls was a small regiment of Dark Elf Crossbow men, sent in express haste from Castle Icekeel. Taking up positions among the rubble they began firing obsidian tipped bolts as the regiments of skeletons. The skeletons died in droves, the magic that sustained them unable to cope with the effects of the bolts, even more effective, the bolts stopped magic from reanimating the assortments of bones.

Registering the sudden loss the rearguard turned but saw nothing, concealed as the crossbow men were. Immediately the Elves disappeared, sowing confusion in their wake, moving from spot to spot, and generally disrupting the flow of reinforcements.

Draithon turned and noticed a rather noticeable figure leaving a trail of smoking skeletons, the figure was heading in the direction of the duel. Melting away unnoticed he continued towards Sentence.

"Cut off the head and the body will die..."

OOC: Snakezenn, just a few points of grammar, try to paragraph, use capital letters for proper nouns and sneakyness isn't a word... Its just your post was a little confusing.

Post: #15

What is my name? Maybe Dythor knows? I should ask him. Dythor looked towards a large castle to the north, where he could sense the sounds of battle. Is this what I've been searching for? Maybe Dythor knows? I should ask him.
Without further thought, Dythor howled towards the sky, abandoning any reason that may have been contained within his mind. Now there was a fight to be had.
His howl had been full of a strange bloodlust, and Dythor's eyes were turning red, a blinding rage blinding him from sense.
Then clarity returned, although even with clear senses Dythor didn't stop. How long has it been since I've fought? Maybe Dythor knows? I should ask him.
With this last thought, Dythor had reached the battle's edge...

Post: #16

From the south a lone rider rode furiously northwards towards Sylvania. Not stopping once Simon continued onwards desperate to return to Drakenhof as quickly as possible. He had already abandoned the other council members who had accompanied him to Nagashizzar. Fortunately his journey had been quicker above ground and his Nightmare Daredevil didn't get tired.

Post: #17

Several miles away from the violet citadel, was a cave. Not a large cave, per se, its cieling barely allowing one to crouch.

Silence, darkness, and dust pervaded the abyssal mouth of the opening in the earth.

Then, had there been anyone nearby to hear, there came a rustling sound, a furious scratching, which grew louder and more persistant by the minute. Suddenly, squirming and writhing, a pale, thin figure spilled forth from the cave. His once-fine regalia reduced to torn and dirty tatters. His skin was almost black with accumulated dirt and filth.

A disgusting figure, by any meaning of the word.

Momus was tired. Tunneling for almost a month and a half did that. It was fortunate that he had stumbled(or rather, crawled) upon a dwarven tunnel, an inhabited one, that is. Dwarf blood had little taste, but it provided much in the way of nourishment. In his already tired state, he had killed an entire small family. A shame, had he been more vigorous he could have spent more time feeding to regain his full health, but no matter.

He surveryed, or rather felt the landscape around him. Yes, he could feel the dark magic building. There were undead here, many of them.

Some bore the taint of Nagash, while other were still pure, if that word could apply.

He felt his choler rising as he set out towards them.

Post: #18

Sentence made a vicious gesture with his right hand, spitting out a short incantation causing his fallen warriors to rise once more and then with a few hissed words he renewed their vigor so they would give a stronger advance on the enemy.
Feeling pleased with his work the necrarch decided to add a slight ward against the arcane and mundance around himself incase the bitch decided to attack him once more.
Watching the distruction the Nagashi forces wrought he felt a slight thrill, all in his gaze were the armies of the dead and such things to the eyes of W'sorans children were exquisite beyond any other image to ever exist.
Feeling his mood lighten once more and the annoyance of the unknown vampiress vanished he glanced back to where his attack had been. but instead his supernatural sight only saw a slight form falling from the citadel.
"Well Innocence is having fun" murmered Sentence with a smirk under his cowl.
Returning his gaze to the battle he began refixing any soldiers that fell, his dark magic spreading like a cloud of shadow across the battlefield as he chanted.

Post: #19

Mircea listened to the reports that the fell bats had brought him. The forces of Nagash had made their move and where now besieging the Violet Citadel. He chuckled, Vekarin was in deep trouble.

He had been tracking the forces of Nagash ever since his scouts had found them, and how he was ready to hit them were it hurt. He behind him was vast monolithic hosts of skeletons and grave guard, squadrons of Black Knights and trudging crowds of zombies.

‘’March’’ he commanded, and the vast undead host sped as one towards the Violet Citadel as fast as the necromancer’s magic could sustain it.

Post: #20

With immaculate care Draithon worked the mechanism for his Repeater Crossbow, with a satisfying clink! the bolt slid into place.

He was lying under the corpse of a Liche, now headless, and almost completely concealed under its flowing robes. His sensitive eyes sighted The Sentence's back through the swirling melee, arms raised upwards in chanting, and with a slight movement the crossbow was aligned.

Checking one last time that the Obsidian tip was covered in acid, and that the mechanisms were ready. He slowly began to squeeze the trigger, and with a thunk the bolt flew outwards, but the string had hit his face and the bolt went slightly off. With a violent explosion one of the wights flew apart and Sentence spun around, his dark eyes glazing with hate but unable to discern the source of the bolt. Draithon reworked the mechanism and re-aimed. Instantly Sentence saw him, the click having alerted the Dread lord.

The bolt sped through the air and hit Sentence in the chest, suddenly the group of undead surrounding the duel of Vekarin collapsed, bereft of his concentration. As Sentence began to chant Draithon rolled aside and threw the body forward, running into a group of zombies he leapt and crashed into a wight regiment just as the zombies behind him was vaporized in a flash of energy, the smell of ozone staining the air and the edge of his cloak in tatters.

With a shout he unsheathed his blade and started weaving a dance of death through the army, ducking beneath blades, severing legs and cutting opponents to dust. Eventually he was lost in the swirling masses of undead.

OOC: DoN, can I reserve Sentence?