[ORvR & RP light NA] 12.02.17
Posted: Tue Jan 24, 2017 7:31 am
Here we go again! Its time for another PVP & RP light event, this time it will be started at 0500 on the 12th of Feb 2017 and will be High Elf vs Dark Elf, the timezone for starttime can be found: https://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/ ... nd/altdorf
This time it also comes with some pretext as we have made new characters for the event, All thanks to Senlui for writing this text.
Lydeas Bloodmist smiled cruelly as she carved bloody runes into her still living victim. His agonised screams were sweet to her ears, to be savoured along with the ragged mess of his body that hung limply from the improvised scaffold shared with the other captives. The Hag stepped back to admire her work, considering that only hours ago he stood before her with all the defiance of a noble of Caledor. Nearly broken, the eldest son of Therial Sunsword could barely talk after his short ordeal with the Brides of Khaine, but she was certain that there was some of that defiant spirit left still in there somewhere.
“Bring her to me”, she commanded, a smirk on her lips as two of her coven brought forth a struggling female.
Stepping slowly towards the elf, Lydeas tapped her knife against her teeth thoughtfully, and grasped the prisoner’s chin with her free hand, tilting her head back to inspect her face.
“Such a pretty one, I can see why you begged to take her place, weak kin”. Recognising his wife, Therial tensed, using the last of his strength to stand and try to pull free of his bonds with an angry roar, to the great amusement of Lydeas and her Witch Elves. “So noble”, she mused. His wife screamed his name, shock upon her face upon seeing his bloodied state.
“Have no fear, I keep my promises. Did I not tell you that you would be reunited?”
Lydeas smiled coldly at her sisters and hissed her command, “Cut her open, let us paint our altar with her sweet blood before our battle”. With insane laughter, the Brides dragged their captive away, amused by the tormented screams of their chosen victim and her beloved.
Slowly walking towards Therial, she lowered her knife with a sultry expression. “I’m not done with you yet...” With a crazed grin, she thrust her dagger into his heart with a twist, observing the pain in his eyes as life left them. Cutting him down, she beckoned forth three more of her sisters.
“Take him back to his father’s estate. Time to leave a little message to taunt him from his stronghold. I am tired of sieges.”
Lord Alaran Sunsword paced anxiously as he awaited news of his missing son. “It is entirely out of character”, he exclaimed, dismissing his advisor’s attempts at reassurance. “Something has happened. Our kingdom is under attack, and I fear ill has befallen them.”
A seasoned warrior and general, Alaran had served the Caledor Princes for centuries. Knowing full well that Dark Elf forces had entered the region near his fortified manor, he had been appalled to discover his reckless son had chosen to take his new bride Ceryalle, on a tour of the estate. They were last seen passing through the gatehouse two days ago, dressed lightly for an afternoon ride, and had not returned.
The advisor began to speak, but was cut down with a commanding look from Alaran. “Have my horse readied, along with a dozen men. I’m going to find my son.”
“My lord...” interrupted a pale faced servant, entering the hallway, “There is no need.”
A look of surprise and hope lit up Alaran’s face for a moment, “He is returned?”
“Yes, my lord. What’s left of him...”
This time it also comes with some pretext as we have made new characters for the event, All thanks to Senlui for writing this text.
Lydeas Bloodmist smiled cruelly as she carved bloody runes into her still living victim. His agonised screams were sweet to her ears, to be savoured along with the ragged mess of his body that hung limply from the improvised scaffold shared with the other captives. The Hag stepped back to admire her work, considering that only hours ago he stood before her with all the defiance of a noble of Caledor. Nearly broken, the eldest son of Therial Sunsword could barely talk after his short ordeal with the Brides of Khaine, but she was certain that there was some of that defiant spirit left still in there somewhere.
“Bring her to me”, she commanded, a smirk on her lips as two of her coven brought forth a struggling female.
Stepping slowly towards the elf, Lydeas tapped her knife against her teeth thoughtfully, and grasped the prisoner’s chin with her free hand, tilting her head back to inspect her face.
“Such a pretty one, I can see why you begged to take her place, weak kin”. Recognising his wife, Therial tensed, using the last of his strength to stand and try to pull free of his bonds with an angry roar, to the great amusement of Lydeas and her Witch Elves. “So noble”, she mused. His wife screamed his name, shock upon her face upon seeing his bloodied state.
“Have no fear, I keep my promises. Did I not tell you that you would be reunited?”
Lydeas smiled coldly at her sisters and hissed her command, “Cut her open, let us paint our altar with her sweet blood before our battle”. With insane laughter, the Brides dragged their captive away, amused by the tormented screams of their chosen victim and her beloved.
Slowly walking towards Therial, she lowered her knife with a sultry expression. “I’m not done with you yet...” With a crazed grin, she thrust her dagger into his heart with a twist, observing the pain in his eyes as life left them. Cutting him down, she beckoned forth three more of her sisters.
“Take him back to his father’s estate. Time to leave a little message to taunt him from his stronghold. I am tired of sieges.”
Lord Alaran Sunsword paced anxiously as he awaited news of his missing son. “It is entirely out of character”, he exclaimed, dismissing his advisor’s attempts at reassurance. “Something has happened. Our kingdom is under attack, and I fear ill has befallen them.”
A seasoned warrior and general, Alaran had served the Caledor Princes for centuries. Knowing full well that Dark Elf forces had entered the region near his fortified manor, he had been appalled to discover his reckless son had chosen to take his new bride Ceryalle, on a tour of the estate. They were last seen passing through the gatehouse two days ago, dressed lightly for an afternoon ride, and had not returned.
The advisor began to speak, but was cut down with a commanding look from Alaran. “Have my horse readied, along with a dozen men. I’m going to find my son.”
“My lord...” interrupted a pale faced servant, entering the hallway, “There is no need.”
A look of surprise and hope lit up Alaran’s face for a moment, “He is returned?”
“Yes, my lord. What’s left of him...”
