Author Topic: Spin your yarn here! Tales of Valor and...errr...Courage!  (Read 70136 times)

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eisbaer

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Spin your yarn here! Tales of Valor and...errr...Courage!
« Reply #30 on: June 12, 2005, 08:58:49 PM »
dude so i was totally fighting these mountain bandits and they beat my ass harshly so i reentered battle with like 34 hp and 3 guys and we fought an army of 16 river bandits and i had to kill the last 6 or 7 with by myself with only a bow and arrow im hard as hell boy

Maksha

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« Reply #31 on: June 14, 2005, 12:40:02 AM »
Best time ever was when I deicded to be a big man and solo some Dark Hunters. I was riding around and I saw a group of 3 peasants being attacked by a group of 20ish Dark Hunters. I engaged, it was my second time against Hunters so I was confident. I had a fast horse, a watered-steel nomad sabre, a 710 shield, a crossbow and 20 normal bolts. Perfect for hit and run.

As I began I made my way up a small hill to get a view of the surroundings. There was a river between me and the Hunters, steep hills on the right and the edge of the map on the left. The Hunters were already crossing the river, and the 3 peasants were quickly cut down or knocked out. I fired several bolts, but the shields of the Hunters rendered them useless. They were getting close now, so with my last loaded bolt I managed to headshot the nearest Hunter as he came in to charge. I drew my sabre and got out my shield, mounting my horse very fast. I rode back to their side of the river to buy myself some time, and I found a small, flat plain and so I started circling. The Hunters, unaware of my plan, circled also, and when one passed me by I would slash out and attack. This continued for quite some time, until I got down to just the Hunters who I had un-horsed. I killed all but 3, and then the terrible message turn up.

"New enemies have arrived."

And what do I see? More Hunters, about 20 more, coming from the Hunter spawn area. Great. I finish off the last 3 foot-soldiers and move in to attack the new arrivals. About halfway through, the same message appears.

"New enemies have arrived."

Only 10 this time, but my horse was getting weaker from the odd attack that hit it. Fortunately my faster horse was able to out-manuvere them, so these days I stick to speed rather than armor on horses. Anyways, as I was getting bored a bit by now, I stopeed paying attention and I crashed into a rock. My horse reared up and I was unable to move for a few critical seconds. In came a lancer. Whoopty-doo. My horse died, but as the lancer tried to spear me I cut him down, and his horse. Some foot-soldiers are advancing now, and the Hunters on horseback still keep knocking me down. I wait for an open gap in the stream of attacks and then I popped up with my crossbow and got another Hunter. Stealing his horse, I resumed my old tactic of circling and soon got rid of the others.

And thats how I solo'd 50-odd Hunters 8) Hope you enjoyed!

Heres a pic of the about half the battlefield:


The reason I haven't lost too much health is that I kept getting knocked down, and that does very little damage.

Ingolifs

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« Reply #32 on: June 14, 2005, 02:32:37 AM »
Wow nice.

Sir Saladin

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« Reply #33 on: June 14, 2005, 08:46:53 PM »
That was a fine two-fisted tale of adventure Maksha.

Maksha

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« Reply #34 on: June 14, 2005, 09:16:09 PM »
:D  i try my best

Temujin

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« Reply #35 on: June 15, 2005, 10:54:08 PM »
Brave Sir christian was on his way to suno with some furs he wanted to sell there, as suddenly a band of deserters ambushed him near the woods.

"hand over thy denars!" they shouted to our brave knight.
Outnumbered 11 to 1 by strong veterans manny a man would decide to flee. but not the noble Sir christian; he drew his large sword and replied: "you are men without honour who prey on the weak! I shall put an end to your evil ways with my trusted blade!"

and so the battle started, about 5 of the cowardly deserters where on horseback, and Christian decided that they had to be the first to be send to eternal damnation. he rode around slicing their throats with allmost godlike precission whilst avoiding the ennemies on foot.

when the last of the mounted scoundrels had been taken care of, Sir Christian decided that there was no honour in slaying mere infantrymen from his horse and decided to unmount for an honourable battle. And so our brave hero waited with his blade firmly in his hands for his ennemies to come to him. a fierce battle occured since those deserters have no honour they didn't care for 1 on 1 duels and tried to encircle our hero. Sir Christian started swinging his blade and with every swing blood flowed freely and screams of dying men where heared untill all sounds went silent.

as our hero looked around him he noticed that all deserters had been slain
PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP :-D

Vaerraent

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« Reply #36 on: June 16, 2005, 02:55:50 AM »
Not a true story, but I'm bored... ah well... here we go;

Aethyc Donovan shifted his grip on his wooden sabre and adjusted his handhold on the buckler - this was the first time he had used a weapon in years, but he was enthusiastic and ready to return to his old sport of arena combat.

This was just training, though. The other man was dressed the same way and holding a staff, just some ruffian off of the streets but the man could still be dangerous to the out-of-practice Aethyc. Suddenly the man lunged at him, using the stick like a spear.

Aethyc simply danced aside easily, using his buckler to knock the staff away and sending a shock up his opponent's arm. The other man almost fell backwards, dropping the staff with his front hand and Aethyc stepped in, attacking quickly and mercilessly. The other person tried to fist Aethyc in the stomach but already Aethyc was getting back into the spirit of the arena, his sword hacking in an ungraceful dance of pain.

Pain for the other man, anyway. Aethyc stepped back as his opponent simply fell backwards, sliding down the wall he had been pressed into. It took a while to approach the end of retraining, but he managed it. Soon enough he was facing two real opponents, one tall horseman with a wooden lance and a fine gelding wearing plate-mail and another with a wooden greataxe and wearing full plate without a helmet. His only companion was a short fellow with a wooden longsword and shield who looked like he had only just started shaving yesterday - he also wore full plate armor apart from the helmet.

Aethyc stood in the arena, wearing some light chainmail and holding a wooden-bladed broadsword. More like a bloody oar, the weight of it was starting to pull on his arms. He blocked out the cheer of the croud in his mind and attempted to focus on what he was doing, running towards the man on horseback. This was not a very good idea as the man on horseback was running towards him, but his attention was taken as the greataxe-wielding person and the young fellow engaged in melee combat. He was surprised to say the least as the lance was at just the right angle that it hooked him under his shoulderblade and held him in the air. He cursed himself for a fool as the man on the horse galloped to a wall, laughing.

Aethyc didn't have time to finish the curse as the air was driven out of him, being slammed into a wall in such a way. He felt one of his ribs crack. The croud were cheering a lot more now the excitement had built up - they loved it when serious injuries and fatalities happened. Some people were groaning, people who had bet on him most likely. If he lost it would be possible that one of the higher-up nobles may hire some sellswords to rough him up a little, perhaps take a little of his cash in compensation on the way. He did not want to let that happen.

He blinked until his eyes completely opened, then stood up. An "ooooo" came from the crowd as he grabbed his broadsword and rushed the man on the horse. Some people screamed warnings but they were too late, his 'oar' of a sword hit the man in the back of his flat-topped helmet and all he had time for was a stranged yell and a surprised expression to form on his face as he keeled over on the horse. The horse was well trained, of course, so did not bolt. It simply stood there as the rider slid off the back of the horse to fall onto the ground, limply. The horse continued to do something very humiliating to the unconcious man, something that will not be detailed here. Only then did the crowd start screaming appreciation, stomping in seats and jumping up and down.

With a laugh at the horse, Aethyc mounted and patted the gelding for a job well done. He finally took a look at the remaining two man, now circling each other. None even glanced in Aethyc's direction. The axeman saw an opening and stepped in and suddenly it was all a blur of wood, fists and feet. This was too good an opportunity to miss, Aethyc thought as he kicked the horse into a gallop.

He had never been good with a lance so he had left it behind him, in a corner of the arena. He held his broadsword at the side of his horse at the moment, closing in on the two fighters who had not glanced at him. Still closing... approaching... now! His broadsword slash came at exactly the same moment that the axeman ducked, it hit the side of his allys head. His teammate was still falling when the other man was bending down. Not a good position for his opponent to be in, it seemed, as the horse reared and caught the axeman inbetween the legs going up.

He wondered why the man did not rise and winced when he saw the reason - a dent in the armor at perhaps the most painful spot possible. Red blood started to trickle between the plates and the man fainted. Aethyc quickly signalled for the field surgeons but first he was greeted by some noble or other who held his fist in the air, yelling to the arena that Aethyc had won. Just another day's arena work, but it brought up the illusions again.

The illusions had bothered Aethyc for a while now, they were becoming less frequent but he was still shocked when suddenly, after a battle, his vision would be obscured by what looked like some kind of giant book. But oddly enough a little arrowhead-shape moved on the book-that-was-not-a-book, seeming to interact with it in some way. Then it would just dissapear, and not come back for a while. He was starting to worry about his health.

So the final illusion came, but it was different from the others. He could not read the runes that apppeared - they seemed to be runes - but it had a box with runes somewhat like, "YOV HAVE ACHIEVED LEVEL 6, PLEASE REGISTER TO PLAY THE FVLL GAME - IT IS EASY AND ONLY TAKES TEN MINUTES" or somesuch. Then life just winked out, he dissapeared. The universe ended. Nothing was in existance any longer.

Aethyc looked around, trying to shake off the feeling that he had done this before. For the first time in years he had returned to the arena - just retraining for now, but...





Humor for ever :D

Elia

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« Reply #37 on: June 19, 2005, 02:44:42 PM »
Elia Murumetsa was his name. A mighty man from lands far and unknown. Stronger then an ox, but dumber then a hammer.

Elia listened to his second, a thin blonde dandy of a man thought Elia, for his heart seemed more in jousting with milkmaid's behind barns then in the noble art of combat.

"Raiders?" asked Elia with a hint of interest. These vile men reminded Elia of the once terrible Tugar army he had with his own hand helped smite from the world. His body ached with the wounds of so many battles with these cowardly foes, now so very long ago. But to look at him you might imagine he was not fourty if a day yet Elia was far older.

"What was it they where doing?" Elia questioned his second.

"Why... That is what I wished to tell you. They are in talks with what would appear to be a most incapable group of peasant folk. Flithy looking beggars they may be, but hopelessly outmached if those raiders seek what little they may have!"

Elia frowned. Long before he had become a warrior, he himself had been a peasant. One lower then others, for he had been born with useless legs and spent his days not in a field with at least hard work to give him some honor, but in a chair so he might greet passers by and yern for one young lass that had captured his heart, and his crippled body while she would wash clothes with her mother in a fountain he was able to see from the window.

"Then we shall meet them on the fields of honor!" cried Elia, his already famous temper showing itself.

"Really sir, I know you to have a soft spot for these 'types', but there is more. If our band were to ride to the place our scout reported, we would find ourselves outnumbered at least two to one. And these are no river pirates! They all have horses, and you command but archers. I do not think I must remind you that we are ill equiped to attack or even defend against such a foe..."

"If you will not go, and our men will not go, I will go!" louder still Elia cried!

The second sighed deeply. "We go at your command sir."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elia stood on the back of his humble sumpter horse and scanned the valley below. They where almost too late it seemed. Many peasants lie dead already, and talks had ceased it seemed. Elia thought this strange for a moment, considering most peasants would gladly give all they had to live. But then it hit him as an arrow between the eyes. These raiders wanted not gold, but something far more important to the peasants. Their own bodies, to be sold into slavery!

Elia's teeth began to grind, for had it not been once but twice that his only love had been captured by Tugars? Held for years she had been, his own son almost never learning who his father was, or that he still lived.

Without more thought on the matter, Elia called down in a great booming voice to the battlefield. The archers under his command all in a line at the crest of the hill, the sight would have been imposing if these had been simple bandits.

The raider commander looked up and saw this, his mind reeling with but one single thought. More slaves for market. He called back in responce. "Who greats us this fine day, warrior?"

"I am Elia Murumetsa! Warrior from Koldova! Once wielder of mighty Invincor's sword. I have, with ease, once bested a wind demon, and killed a thrice headed dragon. It is I whom saw to it the leader of the entire Tugar nation, at his cry for mercy, was stuffed in a bag to be taken to my lord! And I will best you this day vile one!" boomed Elia, for some time in a less them dramatic fashion.

The raider's commander looked up during all this, the peasants slowly moving away from the seemingly distracted warriors whom not a moment before had been knocking many senseless and killing others. His expression changed from curious, to confused and lastly to amused. Per chance, he wondered, had he been visited by a madman with bodyguards?

Elia's second rolled his eyes during the announcement, partly because he had already requested they mearly join the battle in hopes of suprising these raiders, and mostly because he had heard it many times before. Elia's firm reply involved something about son's of misery and the second still wasn't sure whom the insult had been directed at.

The raider commander at last worked over in his head a fitting reply, and with as much bravado and machismo stated firmly, "Nuts!"

Elia was, not suprisingly, outraged.

He gave out a loud unintelligable battle cry, and the combined cries of at least tweleve of the archers followed, far less energetic or enraged. They too where impossible to understand.

It was on then, for Elia on his brave little horse charged down the face of the cliff, the archers quickly following for at the very least, they where not cowards. With a mighty snap, the two front legs of the already overtasked horse bent the wrong way as the decline came to a sudden stop at the bottom and the towering Elia landed in a lump on the ground no less worse for wear. The archers quickly caught up to their leader and the second helped him to his feet, biting hard upon his lip so as not to let out a chortle at the sight.

Elia was, if imaginable, even more enraged. "Son of a Tugar!" he let slip, and pulling from the horse's now quite dead body his sword, shield, bow and quiver and with practiced ease, he equipped himself.

There was little time, they all knew, for the raider commander would have left only a token few of his men to subdue what was left of the peasants, and the rest would soon be coming over the top of yonder hill.

"The hill," cried Elia "We shall make our stand there!"

And so they moved, slowly. Still it was not far. As they began the less then steep climb, they could hear hooves slowly grinding against earth. The bandits had the same idea!

At the top with sword at the ready, Elia swung mightily into the body of a steppe horse just coming to meet him. And so his sword first tasted blood. The horse fell backwards and the warrior upon it's back slipped off and landed upon his back, while the horse continued it's fall into three more oncoming raiders.

The archers now topped the hill and the first shots rang out, some hitting shield, others armor but even more still horse and man flesh. The charge over the hill had failed, for while not one raider was yet dead, many in the front had been wounded and the rest where turning to round the hill in hopes of a outflanking these well positioned bowmen.

Elia was in his element. At first he considered charging into the calvary ranks, but knew the risk of his falling was too great even for a man as strong and large as himself. Instead he opted to join his troops. Taking out his bow, and stringing an arrow he took aim. His eyes had grown dull and his hands quivered a bit now, unlike his younger days but he was still a danger to any man who tried to close the distance. He ignored the raiders who moved off, pulling their own bows out now, and focused instead on the ones who planned to try to storm this earthen fortification.

With a snap of the sinew string one arrow went out, hitting a nearby tree instead of the horseman Elia had been leading. A mistake. The first rarely was good for Elia. It took him time to remember training he had recieved long ago, and the memory of it came slow these days.

A few more missed shots passed, and then he felt it coming back when he saw the blur of the feathered arrow pass through air to stop in the brain of a not far off raider. He almost let out a cry, but was given pause by the sound of another. His second was screaming now, a cry not unlike a old woman thought Elia.

Turning his back he saw that a few of the more ambitious raiders had managed to survive the constant barage of arrow and bolt, and where even now bringing scimitar to skull on men Elia had trained himself. On the ground lay one already, and another was falling.

Without thought, save that it was a tricky shot, Elia let slip another arrow at the nearest of the riders. It was true, suprisingly but did little damage save to give the man a limp if he where to survive this conflict, lodging in his upper thigh and the saddle resting beneath.

"I will have you coward!" cried Elia, eliciting little responce from the raider. He quickly dropped the bow and pulling free his sword he charged. With a slash left to right, he chopped at the raider's horse, catching it on the back leg nearest him. Down it fell the raider letting out a yelp of pain as the saddle shifted under him, pulling the arrow in it and his leg at an uncomfortable angle, until it snapped in two.

His face pale with pain, he looked up in time to see a blur of blue steel speeding to his face, the last sight he was gifted upon this mortal plane.

Elia heard the crunch as the man below him died soundlessly. But little time was allowed him to contemplate yet another man's death at his own hand, when a feeling of impact blasted across his back, rending flesh. Another of the raiders was upon him, and had already landed a cowardly blow to his back. Elia bit back the pain and turning, swung blindly at his opponent in haste. The blow by chance struck one of the legs of this new raider, and his arms failed to complete the blow that very well might have ended Elia's life.

But Elia was not one to be addled by such things, and cooly he thrust his sword at the belly of the raider, who still unprepaired felt it strike deep within him. A twist of the blade and his life too was snuffed out.

Now the battle was in full rage. All of the raiders left were still at the foot of the hill, the others who had managed the climb lay dead or knocked senseless, while those not trying to scale charged around the base of the hill full tilt, their strange bows shooting in reply. All this Elia expected and welcomed, for at the moment he and his men had the advantage, firing from a stable position.

However, one thing troubled him. Where was the leader? Not knowing quite exactly what he looked like, Elia pondered if the man had fallen already, but he felt this not to be the case somehow.

After a few minutes, the archers ran dry of arrows and instead pulled out each one's own weapon. Some carried spears, others short blades or even swords. Elia had saved some of his arrows, for he had lost the chance to make a sure hit now that many of the enemy had moved out of his personal range.

The battle continued, Elia's men still holding the advantage, for the raider's too soon ran out of missles and the rest present had to charge the hill. To unburden the attackers of their mounts was an easy task, for they could only but slowly move up the hill, exposing the horse's head and front legs to an easy hit. A pair or more of blows sent them down, and the riders who where not killed or knocked unawares by such a dismount had now to face an enemy who had a seeming advantage in height.

With the sitution in hand Elia felt the lust for victory upon him and working with his men his sword made many a killing blow. The fellows who worked by his side now seeing wisdom in the old man's ways, felt their confidence bolster.

When there was but one or two of the now less then confident looking raiders coming slowly to their own deaths, Elia could almost taste the thrill of a well won battle upon his lips. Then it happened.


NEW ENEMIES HAVE ARRIVED!


"Son of a Tugar!"
The falcons above. They were witness to our love. If you have a son, call him, Little Falcon.

Culnarion

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« Reply #38 on: June 20, 2005, 02:07:35 AM »
They came across the hills like a swarm of locusts, yelling as they brandished their weapons. Knights and horsemen charged forward, lances brandished and swords outs, screaming their warcries as the footmen and militia surged after them.

"Loose!" The sergeant called out, and a feathered storm reached out, smashing shields and unhorsing men. Quickly, the crossbowmen bent to recharge their weapons, while a handful of Varghir Guards strode forth purposefully in the mail heuberks, axes at the ready.

She led them from the front, an amazon that seemed to have sprung from yore, wielding an enourmous greatsword and clad in almost nothing but the barest of leathers. Screeching her warcry, she darted forward, and nimbly avoided the lances that threathened to spit her, dodging the massive warhorses as they rode by.

She swung mightily, and in a single blow, struck down the horse, sending its rider tumbling to the floor and into the midst of her male bodyguard, who promptly rendered him into a bloody corpse. Ignoring the crossbow bolts sizzling past her, she began her dance of death, nimbly avoiding horse after horse while using the long reach of her sword to pluck riders from their seats.

Suddenly befret of riders to kill, she mounted an armored charger, its saddle slippery with blood. Kicking it roughly into obedience, she sent it crashing into the oncoming footmen and scattered them, coming round twice and killing two Swadians with swings of her sword.

Alone, she dismounted and charged, the swadian footmen carefully placed between herself and the crossbowmen still on the hill. Dashing back and forth, she smashed aside shields to cleave their owners, always strivng to be just one step ahead of their riposte

The crossbowmen were unceasing in their rain of death, taking down one after another of the bewildered enemy as they moved back and forth, some pursuing the near-naked women, others engaging the Guardsmen, while still more tried to charge up the hill to engage the crossbowmen themselves. Diluting their sheer mass of numbers, they were unable to bring to bear the devestating attack that would have crippled the pitifully small party facing them, and the reinforcements, slowly trickling in, were eliminated in that same methological fashion.

Like a killing machine, the slaughter continued, as more Knights charged across the field, and peasent levies joined the battle. Up and down the greatsword went, and horses tumbled to the ground, men shuddered and died, and the rivers turned a bloody crimson.

At last, it was over, the battle won, with only three walking survivors, and over a dozen prisoners. The amazon, covered in gore and blood, raised her sword in triumph over a field of dead, and then made all possible haste to the nearest tavern for a bed and some rest.


1 Hero
6 Varghir Guards
10 Varghir Sharpshooters

vs

10 Swadian Knights
12 Swadian Men At Arms
12 Swadian Footmen
12 Swadian Militia
10 Swadian Crossbowmen

Sameth

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« Reply #39 on: June 23, 2005, 05:26:01 PM »
Just thought I would say, these are all great stories, I come onevery day to see if any re conyinued or new ones are written. :D
Boobs, are far better than the finest of bread slices. *fondle*

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Jestor

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« Reply #40 on: June 24, 2005, 04:39:36 AM »
I *strongly* suggest making an entire separate forum section for this.  Otherwise it gets too confusing to follow the different stories.

Every other game forum I've been on has a separate section for stories where players can post their own separate threads with their dynasties/stories/After Action Reports/etc.

Just a suggestion from a forums veteran. :)

mrchace

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« Reply #41 on: June 25, 2005, 08:36:41 PM »
Katie...the once court lady...went to battle against 5 river bandits...all by herself with her trusty steed, a dress, a steel dagger, and a hunting cross bow...she had decides her best couse of action was to charge ((her escape rout was cut off)) since it was suicide anyways....he charged forth...several rocks wizzing past her face...with ths sun at her back she hit the first one head on nocking him on his back...katie reached down and stabbed the basterd where he lay, killing him. she was flanked by two others...her steed took substancial damage....she retreated across a river...with 5 hp and a almost dead horse...she dismounted for her final stand...knowing that death was immanent she pulled her crossbow...as the bandits begane to forward the river..katie unleashed a bolt that corrased the head of one of the bandits leaveing a hole the size of her fist...the water began to turn red...she reloded as fast as she could....she fired another shot into a axe bearing black man...putting a hole in his eye, killing him. he fell on his back with a splash...one of the men looked down at his fallen comerade and stopped, a bolt coming out the side of the mans head he to fell...one left...she aimed a final time as a rock hit her in the face...knocking her unconsious...she woke several hours later...naked, no gold no horse...nothing...she made it back to the town in one peice..and did tournies till she had money to buy clothes....
now that is the end of the story
moral you ask?
well
dont fight river bandets at level 1
and dont fight them as court ladie either...
FOR THE KING!!!! CHARGE!!!!!!!!!!!
May your adventures bring bounty on your soul

Raider

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« Reply #42 on: July 04, 2005, 11:35:49 AM »
Foolhardy as a first time player and level one, I decided to go out and hunt River Pirates. At that time, I thought that it would be easy. I barely knew how to fight, and didn't know how to change weapons. Circling them and shooting random arrows hoping for a headshot I managed to take down two of the pirates (out of 10) by beginner's luck. After 10 minutes of running around in circles trying random keys I changed to my hatchet. It was pretty much charge in, whack something, charge out to the other side of the map, and repeat. With a broken shield and dead corpses littering the ground all around me, I charged once more. There were two left, a archer and a melee unit. While I was charging at the melee guy a lucky arrow flew straight into the head of my horse, killing it. One strike onto the melee killed it, making me curse the bad luck that left it on such low health. Running up the hill without a shield at a stationary archer is daunting when on single digit health, so the good old FPS-style strafe tactics served me well here. Just as I was about to hit him a nice one over the head he looses off an arrow, taking me to a single hit point. Archers, of course, are no match to any class with a choppy thing. Enjoying my victory as I headed back to Zendor I was smited by a Sea Pirates group. :(
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Lunchbox

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Spin your yarn here! Tales of Valor and...errr...Courage!
« Reply #43 on: July 08, 2005, 08:13:03 AM »
Richari's Scimitar slashed down at the Steppe raider, cutting down the footman as he rode past, reigning in his horse to turn back and examine the battle field. His forces had scattered the raiders, despite the fact their force was more numerous, in a hail of missile fire and a single powerful charge. The Raider force was either scattered, or arriving at the battle-field in dribs and drabs, hardly a challange. Richari took a deep breath, reveling in the scent of battle and death, knowing full well that he personally had taken out half a dozen soldiers, mounted and on foot, already this battle. He must have seemed an incarnation of brutal raiding in appearance to the soldiers on the battlefield who could spare a moment to glance up at him, his Scale armour and steppe cap, along with the proud charger he rode upon, coupled with the cruel smirk and perfectly manicured goatee, working together to create a vision of malice. A frown creased his face when he noticed one of his soldiers set upon by numerous foot raiders, they'd already forced him off his horse and were hard pressing him, trying to beat past his defence. With a sign, he sheathed his scimitar, and set off.

The Vaegir mercenary waved his hand in appreciation, the bodies of the three Steppe raiders at his feet, arrows lodged in the back of their heads. Richari didn't even respond, making a mental note to fire that mercenary soon, he couldn't even keep his mount, and any who fall behind, stay behind. He regained his sense of amusement when he saw two raiders charging him on horseback, their spears couched under their arms in readiness of their charge. Flicking the reigns, Richari set off at a gallop towards them, once against drawing his Scimitar, easily halving the time before the horsemen got to him, batting aside a spear with his rapier and slashing along the man's throat, letting him slouch in death over his saddle. He couldn't do anything to prevent the other spear slicing through the buckle of his saddle though, he was just lucky it wasn't yet in place, or else it would have pierced through his armour and killed him. As it is he was simply thrown from his mount, landing in an undignified pile on the ground with a loud grunt. He spat the dirt out of his mouth and quickly regained his feet, looking around. His charger was too far away to recover easily, and the second horseman was turning to charge once more, this time with three unmounted raiders approaching as well. Richari smirked and set his feet in the ground, holding the blade in both hands. A passing thought in his mind was that he could have used a shield in this situation, but he dismissed it, much prefering to have extra arrows available. He spat some blood out of his mouth and grinned at the approaching horseman, shouting out at him.
"I am Richari the raider! This is my hunting land, you are trespassing, and will be punished!"
He broke out in almost maniacal laughter as the spear came ever closer. At the last instant Richari sidestepped, easily avoiding the tip of the spear, bringing his blade around in a high arc, cutting through the back of the horseman's neck. With his free hand he reached out and gripped the saddle, swinging himself up onto the Saddle horses back as the raider fell to the side. He smirked once again and reigned the still galloping horse in, turning it to face the three foot-raiders. He kicked his heels into the horses' side, bringing it up to a gallop towards the men, sheathing his scimitar and bringing out his bow and arrows. He drew back once, twice, three times, and let loose with an arrow each time. One raider fell screaming with an arrow in his chest, another with the arrow in his neck. The final raider stumbled as the arrow pierced his knee, but looked up in time to see the rapidly approaching blade of Richari. The bearded raider's blue eyes widened in terror...

Three hours later a merchant's caravan came across the site of the battleground, finding only stripped bodies, and a spear sticking up from the ground, with an bearded face with blue eyes impaled on it's tip.

Sameth

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Spin your yarn here! Tales of Valor and...errr...Courage!
« Reply #44 on: July 08, 2005, 06:48:04 PM »
Nice...... :o
Boobs, are far better than the finest of bread slices. *fondle*

"Like you've never dreamt of having your character slap Harlaus to death with his dick?" - Naridill