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TVC - Chapter 39 - The Scribe

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Simon von Carstein

The Poetic Fiend
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Watching the enemy swarm towards the fortifications Simon gave a signal. His crossbow and archer battalions moved forward onto the fortifications and took aim at the approaching hordes. Aurelius joined him "Wait until enough of the enemy have crossed the trenches. You know what to do." said Simon. Aurelius nodded "Are you not in the slightest bit worried about all this." he asked "I mean what if we lose this battle. What then?" Simon turned "It doesn't really matter. Even if they win by the time they get to Sylvania they'll be facing a new supreme commander." He pointed to the sky "See there's Morrsleib. When it arrives at the highest point in the sky we'll be ready. No one not even Nagash will stand in our way."
 
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"We are to defend this section of the wall," said Peter to Niklaus, "Although we must be prepared to redeploy to any section of the wall should the battle go ill."

Peter watched as the shambling undead were cut down by vlleys of archers, only to push themselves to their feet again. Peter could feel the pressure of a huge magical build up.

"I am glad to have you by my side Niklaus. Never in my unlife have I been so nervous."
 

Gree

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Mircea observed the bands of undead starting to turn against the Councill's forces at the magic of the Dreadlords, he sent some of his own Grave guard to take care of him. They could not afford distractions.

He observed the battle detachedly, he could see that the battle was starting to turn against them. But it was not over yet, he sent some more renforcements to the front lines cooly and directed the aerial bats to redouble their attack.

At this point all they had to do what hold out for Walach.

He looked at two nearby messangers. ''You'' he pointed to one. ''Go tell Helena to not fully commit her forces yet, we need her as a reserve and we cannot afford to show too much strength too early'' he said. He looked at the other.

''And you'' he adressed. ''You go find Lesa, I don't see her anywhere at all, the least she could do is help, not hiding away like a coward.''

With a chorus of answers the two set off.

*******

''Arn't you going to do something lord?'' a Nagashi adressed him. The Executioner simply stared ahead. ''No'' he said. ''Of course not, this will all be over before our own lord will have to lift a finger. I will not shown myself to kill peons unless the councill themselves show up''

He was pleased, he had finally suceeded in forceing thier commander to draw in more and more of his reserves, right until he would be unable to replish his line any more. then he would commit himself and his small, handpicked reserve.
 
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Jason examined the surroundings as he brought his spirits back close to the wall, the shambling horde raced forward. The wall ran along the northern face of the fortress running into a rock wall which climbed a few hundred meters above them. ‘A good defensive position’ Jason thought to himself but so easy for the enemy to over whelm us, and crush us against the walls. He clasped his hands together and his sprits shifted and wailed, as he bound them together, they fought against Jason, all to no avail. Creating a wall of icy claws and contorted faces forming in front of them as the horde crashed against it falling as they tried to cross the Wailing Wall.

“Show me some destruction Von Krahe!" Jason shouted as he held the field, energy flowing into the spell. Peter and Niklaus pressed forward, claw and blade at the ready as they passed threw into the horde each corpse strengthening Jason as he relaxed and ran towards the carnage. He lifting his blade from the broken creature as he thrust his blade into the horde the group quickly whittling down the common undead, as Jason brought the wall forward growing slowly in strength. Figures walked forward from the battle lines as there grim retinue walked with them twin blades in hand.

Jason's eyes narrowed "Nagashi" he said a hint on anger as he readied his blade robed figures followed them and from the retinue strode a Wight clad in finely crafted armor and bandaged in black linen bandages, inscribed with wards and glyphs of light blue and a blade which glue with the same icy blue. Priests chanted in the background eyes glowing like jackals as they marched forward to confront the group.

"Ready yourselves, gentlemen" Jason said coldly as he brought up the wall just behind them peering into the Zenith lord’s cold eyes.
 

Sweeney Todd

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The Guilt sneered inwardly at the upstart von Carstein's words. At the command to attack she strode forward amidst the multitudinous undead, her own abilities dealing far more damage to the enemy than her own sword. Thus protected, she punched through the sea of undead like a cliff parting waves, and sought out the nearest vampire to slay.

**********

Sweeney Todd watched from a short distance away as his small horde of ghouls clashed against waves of Nagashi zealots on the battlements. Beside him Mrs. Lovette's lips released a continuous incantation that stirred the dark winds of magic and dragged the fallen fitfully back to life to continue the fight. He had not managed to discuss any plans with Mircea or the Duke before the Reapers struck, and thus he decided to simply let his degenerate masses do the fighting while he left himself, Geralt and the assembled company of Patisserie Guard to act as a reserve. The flare gun hidden up his sleeve itched as he thought of his remaining forces, but for now he contented himself to wait.
 
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Peter hacked and blasted his way through ranks of zombies and skeletons. Jason's spirit horde wailed around him like a gale. Niklaus slashed and bit at the horde of undead.

Suddenly and unholy chanting could be heard over the howl of the spirit wind. Living priests of the cult of Nagash were summoning the winds of magic to animate a huge armoured wight. The Zenith Lord strode towards Jason. The Vampire raised his blade, but Pter knew the Lahamian would not be able to fight the Wight for long.

"Niklaus!" cried Peter, "The Priests. They are powering the wight. Kill them."

Niklaus bounded towards the cluster of Nagashi, with Peter to his left, guarding the Varghulfs flank. They needed to kill the priests quickly if Jason was to succeed against the towering undead Lord.
 

Disciple of Nagash

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A roar echoed over the battlefield as Lesa’s dragon entered the fray, its massive bulk casting a shadow over the warring dead. Upon it’s back the Lahmian stood, arms stretched up towards the heavens as arcane words screamed from her mouth. As she spoke faster the darkening clouds rumbled in response, the arcs of electricity within them a dazzling white to match the power that blazed form Lesa’s eyes.

As the last word was said she lowered her hands, pointing at the ground in front of her. A second later a bolt of lighting struck down with enough force to crack the ground, the shockwave incinerating scores of skeletons around it. Again she pointed and again it struck, this time demolishing two if the bone throwers who had slowly started to turn and face her. Suddenly she caught sight of cowled figures towards the rear of the army, each holding a glowing book in their hands. Pointing at the Disciples of Nagash she unleashed another bolt, but it never reached the ground. Initially overwhelmed by the pure power that the Mistress had brought to the battle, the Disciples had been unprepared, however they had recovered swiftly and using the ancient knowledge taught by their dark master they finally dispelled the tempest surging above them.

“Lower!” Lesa cried to the crouched forum of Rayla in front of her. The young vampiress was sat on her knees, palms pressed flat in the dragon’s neck as she controlled the mighty beast. She did not have the power to bind such a creature, her Mistress was still supplying the magic that animated its corpse. However she was controlling the beast to allow Lesa to concentrate on the battle unhindered. Nodding in response to the command, she willed the dragon downwards, seeing through the creature’s balefire eyes. With a thought she lashed out with its claws, tearing apart a force of armoured knights who had foolishly tried to stand up to them.

The dragon screeched again as it pulled upwards, its head snaking forward to glare at the Disciples that had dared defy it Mistress. Opening it’s mouth it prepared belch forth a stream of inky blackness………..

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

“Make ready!” The words sounded oddly distorted within the armoured helm the Duke had donned, but he knew the warriors behind him had heard. His rider had returned not long before with Mircea’s words, and he had been glad to see that they apparently thought alike when it came to war. Already his knights had been ranked up, eager for battle and he had wasted no time in dispatching both to protect the flanks. A reserve had been left, thought it was a pitiful few for against the army they faced they could not afford to hold back,

He know stood with his own retinue, the best the warriors he had under his command. He knew that if they were to survive this battle they need to cut off the armies head, and to do that those holding it together must die. His back snorted and pawed the ground eagerly, its muscles tensing in anticipation.
“Charge!”

Through a gap in the fortification s the Blood Dragon’s galloped out, their passageway immediately blocked as units of heavily armoured wights marched in behind them. They did not follow though. Instead the long dead champions presented their shields, creating a wall of metal that would not be easily breached. The distance between the Blood Dragon’s and the enemy in front of them passed deceptively quickly, and in minutes the crashed into the front line. It shattered as if it were an egg, the lowly skeletons no match for the skill and fury of the vampires. But they were not the target, for behind them the Duke could see a towering wight, its armour and weapons marking it out as one of the enemy’s commanders. Blade flashing they slowly started to make their way towards it, even as it looked at the approaching knights and began its own implacable march to meet them.

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

Hearing the tramping of feet Simon looked down to see a thin line of zombies marching ahead of the rest of their unit, and his lip curled derisively. They were fools if they thought such weak creations could threaten him, as he prepared to blast them back into the ground. Suddenly they stopped, the balefires in their eyes flickering from a green to a cold blue. As he watched they all raised their hands in unison, and from their rotten throats whispered words came forth. For a moment he stood puzzled, unsure what they were doing, when he suddenly caught one of the words. It was spell.

It was the shock of this that nearly killed him. The fact that zombies were casting, something which he knew was impossible stopped him in his tracks, and he only started to move as bolts of black magic lanced from their eyes. The first few hit him head on, and for a second he refused to bow before them, It was testament to his power that even has they struck and sloughed off skin a bone he stood resisted, before finally he was thrown back off his feet. Was it not for the ring he most probably would not have survived, for the spell was a much more powerful version that vampires or necromancers used. From what remained of his hear he could hear the chanting start again, and he knew he had to do something before they unleashed their deadly powers again.

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

A disturbance in the air caught Mircea’s attention as he issued his orders. From within the compacted enemy units that approached something was moving faster, white ethereal glows betraying their presence. Even has he watched a score of ghostly knights raced from the marching infantry, their passing causing more than a few of the lesser dead to crumble back into dust. Their was something unusual about them, they way their shining blue armour seemed to shift over their bodies, and he watched in interest as one of the cannons shot at the galloping knights. The interest turned to concern as the iron ball bounced off their amour as if it was no more than a feather, some arcane force protecting them from harm. In seconds they had reached the front defences and engaged them. The charge was devastating , their blows seemed to find their target unerringly it was plain to see that the banner they carried enhanced them in some unknown way.

Still, however potent they were, they could not defeat they ranks of dead that faced them so easily. They would become bogged down and eventually overcome. Yet as he turned to survey another part of the battlefield, he realised that something was amiss. The spectral cavalry seemed to be passing through the units as if they were not there, even as their blades struck more and more down. Before he had time to react they burst through the rear of the unit, wheeling round to charge once more. As they did so, a leader with a glowing helm looked directly at him, his awful vision seemingly piercing into the vampires mind, Raising its ghostly blade the champion pointed at Mircea, and in an instant the knights turned to face him, picking up speed as the prepared to once more.
 

Gree

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Mircea narrowed his eyes. At first he thought them to be Black Knights, but then realized that these where different, in both feel and look. From what he observed that must have some sort of arcane defense.

Add that to the ghostly bodies of the Knights and obviously they where going to be quite hard to destroy. He turned to a messenger. ‘’You go to Helena now and tell here to bring her wraiths at my location this very instant’’ he ordered. Her ethereal troops shoudl prove invaulable, if his suspicions proved to be correct.

The thrall scurried off to obey. Mircea turned his mind away, focusing and drawing as many Grave Guard, Black Knights and wraiths as he could towards his location. If he did not stop the cavalry here then the line was as good as cut in half. Hopefully, wight blades could still kill these things.
 

MasterSpark

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Pondering her next move as the forces of Nagash marched towards the Council, Helena waited to see if the one of the more strategically adept commanders in the army would request her assistance. Right on que did two messengers arrive from Lord Mircea, one after the other. Assuming that the latter would be the most relevant, and also due to the urgent message that it bore, Helena knew she had to act fast.

-"Ashlotte, we're needed at the centre of the battleline. I'll lead my phantoms there at once but I wish you to follow suit. Be careful."

Ashlotte nodded in acceptance as Helena urged her soldiers to move with arcane motions. Mounting her iron steed, Ashlotte pounded across the ground in pursuit of the creeping mist that followed the host of spirits.
 

Get of W'soran

CN's Lord of Masks
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As the towering form of Marc charged a host of skeletons Karl turned and with his blade out knocked aside the few undead that stood before him before him he saw his younger realitive and current Master thrown from his feet by dark magic.
Letting out a hiss he shouted
"Simon!"
However no response was forthcoming, most likely the count could not hear him.
Cursing Karl sprinted towards the vampire, as he sprinted he saw five forms slashing at the oncoming undead with almost unbelievable speed
"Akarin! Silibar! Bring those three and get over here!" he commanded his authoritive tones reaching them over the sound of battle.
In but moments Karl was flanked by the von Carstein Assassins and allowing his own blade to drop to his side as he ran he left these vampires to be his defense.
Reaching Simon he could still see the burn marks on his clothing, yet the famed von Carstein ring had done its job well.
Crouching down beside the count he ignored Akarin and his men as the surrounded them
"Well Count, this seems to be getting interesting"
_________________________________________

As Jason stared into the Zenith lord’s gaze he saw, through the edge of his vision a dozen charging Nagashi thinking to flank him, before he could respond however a bolt of dark power flashed through them tearing them to shreds.
It was then the Lahmian sensed a figure weilding a great deal of dark power behind him, he could not spare the time to turn to gaze at the figure nor did he need to, for a voice was enough
"I do hope I have not missed the fun, perhaps old V'azrin may be of assistance."
Despite the almost joking phrase the Necrarchs voice was icy with an undercurrent of anger.
 

Disciple of Nagash

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As the black vapour poured from the dragon's mouth it was suddenly whipped away from its intended target.
"I do hope you have not forgotten me..." The cold words of the Innocence breathed in Lesa's ears as a dark mist whirled around the beast, "for I have not forgotten you." Out of the maelstrom a blazing runeblade lashed, cutting a gouge in the dragon's side. From any other sword it would have been nothing but a nick to the massive beast, but the ancient runes burned brightly at the touch of the dead, causing a chunk of rotting skin to drop off.

Rayla did not need to wait for her Mistress's command. The dragon beat with it's powerful winds, the down draft enough to push away the whirling tempest that was the Innocence. Gaining height Lesa and Rayla looked back to see the Dreadlord giving chase, and knew he would not give up so easily.

"Keep ahead of him," Lesa cried, "I need time to prepare another spell." Nodding Rayla gritted her teeth as the dragon swooped back down in a stomach churning drop, increasing their speed as they tried to avoid the Innocence. He was not going to make easy though. Like an arrow he shot after them, twisting and turning as the back draft from the wings buffeted against him.

"You will not escape me this time," his voice laughed through the air, "this is going to be fun......"
 
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Living Orcs had joined the Shamblin WAAAGH! as it continued north, creatures made Savage and even more bestial than before, and then warped by the unusual power of this WAAAGH! The creatures move in the forefront of the force, lead by their own altered bosses, their simple minds set on only one thing, slaughter. Hunched, nails grown into their claws, boney spikes protruding from their spines, the evil monsters hold choppas crude even for the Orcs.

Behind them march Zomboys, their own choppas loosely gripped as they shuffle tirelessly forward. The flanks are protected by Goblin Skeletons carrying spears and , as more Goblin Skeletal Outrides mounted upon Dire Wolves patrol the perimeter. Flitting above the WAAAGH! are snotlins, turned vampiric by the influence of their Warboss. The little cretins arms having turned into wings they unsteadily fly about, and will undoubtedly be a great annoyance to the enemy.

Behind the Zomboys hundreds of living goblins herd a large number of squigs, the monsters bouncing and flouncing about, and eating anything that gets too close. More than one of the herders has fallen prey to them, though that is hardly unusual. Flanking these are more living troops, the WAAAGH! having been joined by a tribe of Night Goblins. Slave Grots and bow armed Gobs drool on themselves as they march forwards, some of them carrying the concoctions that will turn them into fanatics.

In the rear is the great Black Boar Chariot driven by Warboss Arg Bloodymaw, the Orc Vampire and his bodyguard of Orcs that he thought he had krumped, but showed back up and listen to him now. He often wonders how their teefs got so sharp lookin. Oh well. They’re good at krumpin so he kept them. Mounted on the biggest, most monstrous boars around, the beasts hold their choppas ready.

Nearby the cabal of Shamromancers is righting the giant squiggoth.. or squigadon, whichever you like to call it, the beast carrying some kind of crude tower on its back. Other goblins armed with bows ride the beast as well, some strapped to it, some in the tower. Atop said tower is the Effigy of Gork.. or was it Mork? Who knows?

Its an impressive force, though not nearly as big as WAAAGH!’s past. The Badlands had been cleaned out previously, and there was little time to truly build a WAAAGH! So this is the best available. Trudging forwards the Shamblin WAAAGH! Finally begins approaching the rear elements of the Dreadlords army, moving directly for the artillery emplacements. Orcs always seem to show up where they are least expected, and can cause the most damage.
 

Gree

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The knights galloped towards Mircea’s Grave Guard, although they made noises of hooves striking the ground, Mircea knew that it was just an affect, there was nothing hitting the ground.

The knights leveled their swords and lanced and closed in, he observed them, there was over a score of them, facing almost a hundred Grave guard. He gave a silent command to ready their blades.

The knights hit with a thunderous impact, as over two dozen Grave Guard crumbled, lances and sword struck down wight after wight, but not all was going in the knights favor.

The rune-inscribed wight blades that each undead soldier carried was still quite potent against the Spectral knights, carving through armor and spirit with ease as they did so.

A spectral knight gallped at Mircea, the vampire lord recognized it as the champion from before, giving a ghostly howl it leapt at him, blade ready. Mircea ducked under the blow, the sword skimming the edge of his cape.

He instead brought the blade of Vlad Von Carstein arcing up, cutting the undead spectral knight in half. The thing gave one final howl and disappeared as Mircea moved on.

The whole thing turned into a desperate melee when a tide of spirits race in and swarmed over the knights, who where now cut down to less than half their number. Mircea hacked the spectral knight as they disappaeared under a tide of Grave Guard and wraiths.

He looked around. ‘’It’s good you came when you did, Helena’’ he said. ‘’The Dreadlords are finally committing themselves to the battle, at this point we will have to hold out for the Duke’s brother’’
 

Onikaigo

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Niklaus eyes the giant Wight with hunger, wanting to destroy him in entirety. But, Peter von Krahe is in trouble, and the only way to solve it is to spill living blood.

This is a much more appealing option.

Howling, and tearing down another Nagashi to feel the blood strengthen him even more, he leaps into the packed ranks of skeletons and wights, tearing down corpse after corpse in a mad, tireless frenzy.

The priests are close, so close! Only yards away, and beginning to look nervous. They do not know the strength of his legs, yet, or they wouldn't be standing calmly. Gathering himself, battering away a shielded wight so that he is out of striking range, he leaps over the combined might of the Lords of the Dead, landing on top of a Nagashi Priest with an impact that shatters his spine, crushes his ribs, and instantly kills him. Claws flash, and soon the other priest is dead, and Niklaus is enveloped in a black fog.

A howl erupts from inside, one of surprise and pain; And from the inside comes a form wreathed in black tendrils that, assuming it was the way he came, leaps roughly toward Jason and the giant Wight, but ends up slightly off course. His vision affected by the mists, his claws and teeth snap and tear at undead flesh, feeling the source of the third priest before him, but unable to track him down. Howls of fury blanket the flank of the field, and Niklaus works his way ever closer to his target, even if his eyes have not healed.
 

Simon von Carstein

The Poetic Fiend
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"Just a minor setback uncle." Simon replied leaping back to his feet drawing his sword he shouted to his troops "OPEN FIRE!" his men obliged aiming at the zombies using blessed arrows to destroy them. Brushing himself off he said "If you should get a chance to kill a Dreadlord then take it." Moving forward he observed fresh Nagashite forces moving across the trenches rapidly and living Nagashite forces assailing Peter von Krahe. "Send some of the Baalak Gul to deal with the fanatics." he ordered Aurelius. Aurelius nodded "What about the trenches milord? Thousands of the enemy are already across." Simon looked again at the approaching hordes. "We need to make those hordes more managable." he commented. It was then that his face lit up "You know what to do." he said.

As the enemy crossed the trenches to attack the fortifications they didn't notice that what they were crossing just happened to filled with flammable material a single bolt of flame from Aurelius was all that was needed. The troops in the trenches were immolated instantly, While the one who had already crossed found themselves trapped at the mercy of the council's forces in their limited numbers.
 

Get of W'soran

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Watching Akarin and the other Assassins follow their lord, Karl opened his mouth to order one of them back to assist him, only to be interupted by a strange sensation, almost like a icy wind against his back
Nonsense, temperature is nothing to one such as I he thought turning to glance behind him towards the front lines
"What?" he whispered.

Shadows, Darker and Deeper than any night, crept along a section of the battleline of the Nagashi force, slowly the flames of the trench began to dim as this strange darkness swallowed them whole.
From within this wall of pitch black a voice rang out, rasping in tone, it was magically enhanced to meet the ears of Simon and those near him
"You live yet Count! Most Glad I am , most happy to hear! Come, come we have unfinished buisness you and I! The quicker you die the quicker I get back to my room! I have much left to find, much left to improve and create!" it cackled

Karl almost jumped as Marc lay a hand on his shoulder with a curse he commanded the Blood Dragon to bring a force of undead forward and slaughter the Nagashi that had covered the trench but under no circumstances was he too pass through the darkness.
Turning he glanced at Simon
"Who or What was that?" he called
 
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Jason smiled his gaze drifting down to the ground "we shall see V'azrin" Jason leaped forward like a jackal, with speed inhuman he dodged the lords rune covered blade as he wheeled around and struck his back as the power began to sifen from his hulking form. A blade however lunged in to Jason’s side as a screaming Nagashi cackled to him self, attempted to take a limb the blade dug deep, but not deep enough and Jason’s cloak latched on to the Nagashis face, burrowing into his eyes draining him of life and power and throwing the body into an attack from the Zenith lord’s blade. The Nagashi dispersed into shards of blood red glass onto the rocky ground, Jason leaped back fighting to dodge another attack it was sluggish in comparison to the reaper although the blade was far more deadly and the Wight was more skilled at blocking and defending it self from Jason’s powerful blade.

More figures marched forward they would need to hurry, Peter ran forward to assist Jason as another undead construct leaped forward similar to the other in materials. Though this creature stood tall and upright gazing cruelly at them, long talons stretched forward like spider legs and slashed into peters shoulder and he reeled back in pain quickly shrugging off the blow as he moved over to Jason. The creature began to chant its eyes wired with energy and power, as he focused on V'azrin summoning a powerful bolts which charged forth from its hands and mouth leaping towards the Necrarch, as the priests chanted in the background filtering more power into the creature as Niklaus blindly ripped thought there ranks Nagashi closing in around him.
 
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Peter roared with anger and pain as the spider creature hacked at his shoulder. The powerful enchanments of Jason's gift protected him from the full force of the blow, but he was still forced back. He let off a speel into the creatures eyes, and it screamed in a way that was strangly like a human child crying for its mother.

Peter took the moment of peace to look around him. To his left and right black smoke billowed into the air from Simon's fire pits. The stench of rotting flesh filled his hyper-sensitive nostrils.

Niklaus howled, and lashed about him as if he couldn't see the living priests around him. Meanwhile, Jason was struggling against a Naghasi and the Zenith Lord. Peter despaired as it looked like both his companions would be brought down.

"This is what I get for getting involved in the affairs of other Vampire," muttered Peter to himself, as he slashed the legs from under one of the Priests. The Zenith lord was slowing, but so was Jason. Peter blasted a space clear around Niklaus and called to him down his mental link. The Strigoi staggered to Peter's side, as if he were a little drunk.

However, more of the priest were gathering around the unlikely pair, looking to kill the kill the Blood Dragon and the Strigoi, and send them to the torture Morr set aside for their kind.

Over head, Peter's raven dropped like a stone towards the Zennith lord attacking Jason. It clawed at the Wight's cold eye sockets. Although there was little the bird could hpe to achieve against the construct, Peter hoped it would give Nightwere the opening he needed.
 

Gree

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The Executioner finally began to get bored simply stranding there. ‘’Go take over he battle’’ he said simply’’ hefting his axe and striding straight ino the fighting.

Each sweep of his axe killed something, whether it be five or six skeletons in one blow, or a pair of Grave Guard with a downward split. When he came to the fire pit he jumped over it in a single bound, flames slicking a this heels.

He them commanded the undead and Nagashi behind him to come. Any feat that the Nagashi might have had of the fire was dispelled as they surged forward, dozens died and more undead burned in the flames, but the Executioner did not care. Some would get through.

He then charged through more and more Skelton and zombies, a few dozen undead warriors behind him he himself was practically a one-man killing machine that carved through all that stood.

Behind him more and more of the Dreadlord’s forces appeared on the other side of the flames, fire-shrouded skeletons and undead carcasses flinging themselves forward.

Then he followed the path where he sent his Spectral Knights earlier, to his faint surprise he could see no trace of them, just a vampire who he remembered dimly, a ghost, a metal girl on a horse and many other lesser undead behind him.

‘’I see I have gotten lucky today’’ he rumbled.
 

Get of W'soran

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V'azrin spat out dark words of infernal power, shadows enveloped him surrounding him, swirling up his thin form. As the constructs oncoming spells smashing into the Necrarchs shadowy shield it dissipated leaving no lasting mark on the magical defenses the vampire had summoned.
"Fools! You mere slaves of the Great Necromancer DARE assault me! I was once the Great Dark Lord V'azrin! I am the Heir of W'soran! His greatest student!" raved the Necrarch hatefully, his voice magically boosted, at the Nagashi forces.
Raising his hands above his head he turned his gaze towards the Priests of the Nagash forces
"Behold Mortals! This is the Mastery of the Deathly Arts that a scholar of Lahmia holds!" he hissed, eyes glowing with dark balefire.

Above the Necrarch a spinning sphere of pitch black shadow was formed, then with a rasping laugh the vampire hurled the shadow at the gathered priests.
Like a cloud the shadow gathered above these Nagashi spellcasters causing the winds of magic to act erractically and become almost unweildable.

Then with a maddened cackle the Immortal Wizard let lose several arcs of black lightning at the now weakened Nagashi Magi.

The lightning killed a few of the priests but most where able to, through pure force of will, summon enough magic to defend themselves effectively although this exhaused a portion of the spellcasters.
V'azrin merely smirked seemingly not worried by this and with a glance he turned to see how the others where faring.
 

MasterSpark

Nostalgian
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As soon as The Executioner had appeared on the scene, Helena had ordered her spirit-soldiers to immediately assail the Dreadlord. A virtual wall of ethereal beings rushed The Executioner who swung his massive axe at them. Helena could not help but to smile at the fact that the destructive weapon simply sailed through her ghosts, its mundane nature unable to harm the creatures. The Dreadlord still did not falter in his stride, gripped by a battle-frenzy which urged him into continously hacking at the phantoms without any results.

Immaterial halberds rose and fell, striking The Executioner from every angle. The majority of the attacks impacted harmlessly upon the Vampire's armour but some made it through his defences, eliciting an immense roar which pushed his attackers back with raw, otherworldly force. Glaring madly with bloodshot eyes, The Executioner suddenly stopped to place one of his hands on the axe's head, tendrils of arcane energies seeping from his arm towards the weapon. Despite her best efforts, Helena were unable to completely stop the Dreadlord from empowering his weapon with magic and The Executioner resumed his onslaught with renewed fury, his axe now cutting through the spirits like they were made of paper.
 

Gree

Master Vampire
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Dec 11, 2007
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4,953
Mirea could see the Executioner was not going to go down easily. Mantally he sent out commands to some of the skeletons under his command to take out the Nagashi comign in behidn the executioner.

With another mental command he raised a wall of zombies to attack the rest of the soldiers as they came across the fire pits. Satisfied, he tunred around.

''Rush him'' he commanded, ordering his Grave Guard in.
 

Arion

Vampire Lord
True Blood
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Sep 17, 2007
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The line of zombies collapsed as a trio of ancient warriors that had risen like demons from the trenches began hacking through the cadavers, bringing to mind a blade cleaving through air. Their dark eyes gleaming with the faint remembrance of laughter as double handed blades the size of a lance rose and fell, silhoutted by the flames.

The front rank of the charging graveguard was cut down as they took the first step, an arc of cackling electricity slicing under their upraised feet, they collapsed, fumbling the charge and gaining the executioner precious seconds before the skeletons outside Maatmeses' magic charged around to encircle him. She stood, protected by a swarming mass of zombies that formed a solid wall of flesh, intermittently unleashing bursts of spells into the battleline near the executioner, crippling any efforts to swamp him in bodies.
 

Disciple of Nagash

The Perverted One
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As the Duke reached his intended prey, the way was suddenly blocked by row upon row of shields. Stood before the enemy commander were lesser wights clad in full plate armour, each hefting a glowing blade in their skeletal grips. If the sight deterred him the Duke gave no sign as the knights crashed into them. The force of the vampires crushed the first rank, swiftly followed by the second as they pierced into the unit like a thrust sword. At their head the Duke fought will a cold detachment, his skilled blows destroying a wight with each strike.

Behind him the rest of his entourage slowed as the implacable wights refused to give ground. Seeming to realise that their shields were not much use against the vampires strength they cast them to the ground, swiftly drawing massive two handed swords. The knights fought with a skill and ferocity that was legendary of their line, yet for every one they killed others quickly stepped into their place.

It was in the midst of this that the Duke found the wight commander, seemingly waiting for him in the eye of the storm. The long dead creature towered a full head over the Blood Dragon, two long blades held in either hand. For a second they stared at each other, before the Duke made the first move. This time there was not even a blur. The Duke simply seemed to disappear and then reappear next to the wight, his blade punching through its armour. A twist and a tug tore the sword of its side along with part of its armour. Two more quick lunges followed, each tearing holes through the lumbering warrior. The duel was over before it had even begun.

Or so it seemed. As the Duke turned he paused in shock to see the maimed wight slowly rising to his feet. Even with its grievous wounds it was still not destroyed and it walked towards the Duke hands raised. Raising his sword the vampire prepared to deal the final blow when suddenly the wight dashed forward with surprising speed. Too late the Duke noticed the intricate silver bands around the bony hands, and as they grasped his skull pain beyond anything he had even experienced blasted through his body. It felt as if he was been torn apart, and in reality that was exactly what was happening. Through the gems inlaid in the silver raw dark magic was being forced into the vampire, tearing away at his very being. Such was the power that there was nothing he could do as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably, and from his mouth uttered a roar of agony that echoed across the battlefield.
 

Simon von Carstein

The Poetic Fiend
True Blood
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Feb 25, 2008
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Simon frowned and then his expression changed into a smile. "Sentence!" He stepped forward turning to Karl he murmured "Leave this one to me. Sentence can't take part in the battle and fight me at the same time." Karl nodded and stepped back as Simon undid the fastenings of his cloak letting it fall in the hands of an attendant. He drew Animessor and the Sceptre of Ikaana and moved forward arms spread out "Here I am you decrepit, slow witted old fool. ENTERTAIN ME!"
 
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