Knock, Knock, knock... Knocking on the door of Desolation.
Dec 22, 2015 3:51:44 GMT
Post by flexiblesurvival on Dec 22, 2015 3:51:44 GMT
A deep set sigh came to escape Fiona's lips as she set herself to her usual task of standing guard at the entry chamber to Sundered Desolation. The last line of their survival defense within the market district of Kalaram, the city fallen by the sea. The majority of the house had emptied out earlier that day to explore out among the city and beyond to find resources to continue on in their survival as much as to try and restock on weaponry armour for any new comers that might come upon their new found fortress. Such was a dull and mind rotting task, setting her to stare through the slits in her helm to focus on the main entrance.
Shield lashed to her left forearm and hand-and-a-half sword held tight in her right gauntlet, she didn't do much else beyond stand guard. The grandfather clock chimed and the old house creaked and groan as it settled and shifted from the near constant torrential downpour that hit its roof. Fiona could feel herself practically aging while standing there and felt the beat of her heart in her breastplate as much as felt every little, subtle shift of her armor with the minuscule sway of her hips from left to right to change which leg she applied the greater of her weight to at that precise moment.
A precise tolling of a rather loud bell told her that the darkest hour of the night had come, and every fiber of her muscled being had tensed up as she readied her shield and stood there even now to stare at the door; expectation beading sweat upon her concealed brow, wondering when one of the raging undead would come ripping itself through that wooden barrier separating her from the outside word. The tension wore on and the noises of the old house just seemed to get louder until finally the second bell struck and resonated out through the city signaling the calming hour of the undead. Strain bleeding out of her body, Fiona found herself grunting some from discomfort at having been stiff and tense for an entire hour without completely realizing she was doing it.
Lax as she was, it was to no surprise that the knocking noise abruptly startled her and made her tense up again. Stepping to the door rather slowly, she'd only give the most minor of responses with a firm and strong willed voice being offered rather than the voice of someone turned from predator to prey. "Who's there?" The repeated knocking and lack of response had her freeze a few feet from the door with her shield at the ready in front of her. Silence being her companion, Fiona knew not what to do as the knob slowly turned on the door and with a groan of the old hinges did it unlatch and swing partially open. All was still, just the pattering noise of rain outside coming and a thunderous clap rumbling somewhere high above.
There within the darkness of the doorway there rested a labored breath, and then another until she could make out the steady rhythm of what sounded like lungs filled with water, the gagging, wet breaths of something that couldn't be alive. A loud crack erupted into the room and Fiona found herself no longer in front of the door at the ready but rather clear across the room near the overturned tables that had previously rested behind her. The clattering of her shield far into the next room caught her attention as did the heavy footfalls of the twitching, bared upper body muscle and green flesh of the twisted, hulking reaver form.
Sword in hand, she turned over and gave the creature her back as she dove over the table and kicked out with adrenaline fueled might at the reaver before scrambling to go after her shield. Such creatures from previous encounters had taught her she needed that shield to survive a battle against something so vile. Heart racing and and throbbing within the confines of her throat as it felt like, she heard every beating slam of her boots against the wooden floorboards; the whole of her body dazed from the initial assault, she felt as if her sluggish body was trying to run through muck or swamp water. Reality crashing back into her mind, the sound of wood shattering into pieces echoed in her mind and she knew without looking that the temporary delay tactic had failed and the reaver had bull-rushed straight through the table, ripping the bit of furniture into splinters.
Pounding muscles and loud, blood thirsty screams came from the beast behind her and she found herself dropping to her knees near the chest of equipment just barely in time as that long, disfigured arm and claws went sailing overhead in a swipe that should have broken her neck or decapitated her. The beast whirled around from the power it put behind the swing and she got the first sight of it toppling over against the far wall. It was getting up, the thing was merciless, unrelenting and seemed to have no drive to stop in its attacks until it ended her. Fiona had seen her shield, landing further inside near the smithing table but that damned thing was between her and it. "Damnit to hells!" The curse fell free from her lips, unbidden and hidden from unknown ears thanks to her helmet as she dug into the unlatched chest and grabbed at the first thing she could find.
Without getting the chance to look upon her finding, her hands clenched tight to the grips of her sword and her newly acquired chest treasure as that lumbering limb had grabbed hold of her by her midsection and hurled her through the air; the horribly aiming sending her smashing into the kitchen through the open doorway. Bones felt like they would break any minute, armor dented and cracked in multiple spots in her breastplate. Her heart felt as if it would rip out of her chest with the intensity of its beating; the loud, hammering rhythm like drums of war pounding right inside of her head as the reaver lurched inside and grabbed at her again. Fiona found her saving grace and lunged out of the way just barely in time as the long and twisted nails of its mutated hand scraped against the metal of her greaves covering her thighs. "Oh come on!" Rolling along her side and grunting as she felt tension ripping through her body to the point she felt her bones would snap under the pressure, she had pushed up into a crouch and realized the item she grabbed had been a spike balled chain whip. "How is this going to help me?!" Snapping at herself for the stupidity of what she had grabbed, even if she had been groping inside the chest blindly; she couldn't help but think she could have had the luck of grabbing something more useful to defend herself.
The brute of a beast lashed at her again and she found herself rolling out of the way again just barely and slammed this time into the kitchen bench she'd found people sitting on time and again. A pained grunt escaping her lips, she'd scramble out of the kitchen and spun around in time to see the reaver coming out after her. Swinging the whip with no other choice in that moment, she watched it sail through the air, led by the weighted, spiked ball at the end before it coiled around the throat of the reaver. A quick side step under her now leashed opponent, she'd duck away from that swinging arm before stabbing her blade out to pierce the creature. Blood splattering all over the floor, she'd dodge and wove herself around each lumbering swing and jerked on the whip to off-balance the reaver while slicing into its flesh.
It felt as if hours had passed beating on the creature before it finally collapsed into a bloody mess on the stone floor. Painting, armor plastered in blood spray and grime, she unwound the whip from the undead's throat and looped it onto her belt before dropping her sword to the floor. The whole of her body felt heavy as she grabbed at the thing and dragged it outside, tossing the remains into the street before returning inside to begin cleaning up. She survived... this time.
Shield lashed to her left forearm and hand-and-a-half sword held tight in her right gauntlet, she didn't do much else beyond stand guard. The grandfather clock chimed and the old house creaked and groan as it settled and shifted from the near constant torrential downpour that hit its roof. Fiona could feel herself practically aging while standing there and felt the beat of her heart in her breastplate as much as felt every little, subtle shift of her armor with the minuscule sway of her hips from left to right to change which leg she applied the greater of her weight to at that precise moment.
A precise tolling of a rather loud bell told her that the darkest hour of the night had come, and every fiber of her muscled being had tensed up as she readied her shield and stood there even now to stare at the door; expectation beading sweat upon her concealed brow, wondering when one of the raging undead would come ripping itself through that wooden barrier separating her from the outside word. The tension wore on and the noises of the old house just seemed to get louder until finally the second bell struck and resonated out through the city signaling the calming hour of the undead. Strain bleeding out of her body, Fiona found herself grunting some from discomfort at having been stiff and tense for an entire hour without completely realizing she was doing it.
Lax as she was, it was to no surprise that the knocking noise abruptly startled her and made her tense up again. Stepping to the door rather slowly, she'd only give the most minor of responses with a firm and strong willed voice being offered rather than the voice of someone turned from predator to prey. "Who's there?" The repeated knocking and lack of response had her freeze a few feet from the door with her shield at the ready in front of her. Silence being her companion, Fiona knew not what to do as the knob slowly turned on the door and with a groan of the old hinges did it unlatch and swing partially open. All was still, just the pattering noise of rain outside coming and a thunderous clap rumbling somewhere high above.
There within the darkness of the doorway there rested a labored breath, and then another until she could make out the steady rhythm of what sounded like lungs filled with water, the gagging, wet breaths of something that couldn't be alive. A loud crack erupted into the room and Fiona found herself no longer in front of the door at the ready but rather clear across the room near the overturned tables that had previously rested behind her. The clattering of her shield far into the next room caught her attention as did the heavy footfalls of the twitching, bared upper body muscle and green flesh of the twisted, hulking reaver form.
Sword in hand, she turned over and gave the creature her back as she dove over the table and kicked out with adrenaline fueled might at the reaver before scrambling to go after her shield. Such creatures from previous encounters had taught her she needed that shield to survive a battle against something so vile. Heart racing and and throbbing within the confines of her throat as it felt like, she heard every beating slam of her boots against the wooden floorboards; the whole of her body dazed from the initial assault, she felt as if her sluggish body was trying to run through muck or swamp water. Reality crashing back into her mind, the sound of wood shattering into pieces echoed in her mind and she knew without looking that the temporary delay tactic had failed and the reaver had bull-rushed straight through the table, ripping the bit of furniture into splinters.
Pounding muscles and loud, blood thirsty screams came from the beast behind her and she found herself dropping to her knees near the chest of equipment just barely in time as that long, disfigured arm and claws went sailing overhead in a swipe that should have broken her neck or decapitated her. The beast whirled around from the power it put behind the swing and she got the first sight of it toppling over against the far wall. It was getting up, the thing was merciless, unrelenting and seemed to have no drive to stop in its attacks until it ended her. Fiona had seen her shield, landing further inside near the smithing table but that damned thing was between her and it. "Damnit to hells!" The curse fell free from her lips, unbidden and hidden from unknown ears thanks to her helmet as she dug into the unlatched chest and grabbed at the first thing she could find.
Without getting the chance to look upon her finding, her hands clenched tight to the grips of her sword and her newly acquired chest treasure as that lumbering limb had grabbed hold of her by her midsection and hurled her through the air; the horribly aiming sending her smashing into the kitchen through the open doorway. Bones felt like they would break any minute, armor dented and cracked in multiple spots in her breastplate. Her heart felt as if it would rip out of her chest with the intensity of its beating; the loud, hammering rhythm like drums of war pounding right inside of her head as the reaver lurched inside and grabbed at her again. Fiona found her saving grace and lunged out of the way just barely in time as the long and twisted nails of its mutated hand scraped against the metal of her greaves covering her thighs. "Oh come on!" Rolling along her side and grunting as she felt tension ripping through her body to the point she felt her bones would snap under the pressure, she had pushed up into a crouch and realized the item she grabbed had been a spike balled chain whip. "How is this going to help me?!" Snapping at herself for the stupidity of what she had grabbed, even if she had been groping inside the chest blindly; she couldn't help but think she could have had the luck of grabbing something more useful to defend herself.
The brute of a beast lashed at her again and she found herself rolling out of the way again just barely and slammed this time into the kitchen bench she'd found people sitting on time and again. A pained grunt escaping her lips, she'd scramble out of the kitchen and spun around in time to see the reaver coming out after her. Swinging the whip with no other choice in that moment, she watched it sail through the air, led by the weighted, spiked ball at the end before it coiled around the throat of the reaver. A quick side step under her now leashed opponent, she'd duck away from that swinging arm before stabbing her blade out to pierce the creature. Blood splattering all over the floor, she'd dodge and wove herself around each lumbering swing and jerked on the whip to off-balance the reaver while slicing into its flesh.
It felt as if hours had passed beating on the creature before it finally collapsed into a bloody mess on the stone floor. Painting, armor plastered in blood spray and grime, she unwound the whip from the undead's throat and looped it onto her belt before dropping her sword to the floor. The whole of her body felt heavy as she grabbed at the thing and dragged it outside, tossing the remains into the street before returning inside to begin cleaning up. She survived... this time.