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originally posted in:The New Dojo
1/30/2018 12:50:24 AM
22
[b]a sword for a Nord [/b]
[i]a random merchant vendor, in the dojo [/i]
In a comer if a town, there was a strange looking exotic merchant tent with no one running it. There where lots of strange looking trinkets, but there was one main item. A single sword in a Open display case, with a note written above it.
[i]dear annoying Nord person,
It has some to my attention that May have offended you earlier, so I left this sword for you as a apology. It is strongly enchanted just for you
From
A Khajiit [/i]
The sword was just laying there, no vendors where around. Anyone could steal the sword
[spoiler]open for everyone, although it was based for when I said I needed to teach orbs Skyrim Nord a lesson.[/spoiler]
English
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"[b]At last![/b]" [i]The Champion of Domination, the Specter of Ruination, the One Whom Conquers and the Bloody Wraith, had come.[/i] [i]The Nord man, embellished in the shining black plates of fine Ebony armoring, swirls of enchanting runes running throughout the midnight plates that layered his being. He stood tall, muscular and firm, as mighty as a Nord could ever hope to be, really.[/i] [i]As he twirled that jagged Mace of Molag Bal in his right hand, he raised his arms, laughing underneath the stainless black helmet that donned his head.[/i] "[b]Come, little mage! Let us see how-[/b]" [i]Only, he was cut off.[/i] [i]The massive, gilded hammer flattened the warrior entirely, as it came down upon his being, crushing him in one single, terrible slam. The cracking of bones splintered through the air, the literal destruction of organs and flesh squelching through the silence, as blood oozed from the once shining armor. Now, the armor was merely flattened. Crushed.[/i] [i]The hammer rose up, resting upon the shoulder of a woman whom underneath her gilded gold mask, laughed at the dead Champion. She was.. shorter than him, by a few inches, though six feet tall nonetheless, suited in her own set of armoring. She would heave up the massive hammer, a weapon as big as her, as she looked over at the sword.[/i] "Ugh, I prefer a hammer." [i]She murmured, displeased.[/i] "Or whatever he wanted to crush. I should crush it now.."
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The sword seems to grow, and change. It becomes a warhammer, a powerfully enchanted one. Calling to the warrior through her mind [spoiler]is she a Nord? Anyways the swords not in Skyrim, but I thought it would be fun.[/spoiler]
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[spoiler]Nope.[/spoiler] "...Filthy magic! I hate magic! [i]Fight me, you dirty cat![/i]" [i]The woman yelled, ignorant of the weapon. Even if she had favored a hammer, she seemed to enjoy her own. Much, much more.[/i]
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The warhammer still changes, to turn into one exactly like hers. “Now you wouldn’t like to see yourself with a perfect replica of your weapon, and not pick it up to see if it’s weight is even balanced enough would you” came a voice echoing in your mind. [spoiler]pick up the darn warhammer [/spoiler]
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[i]Pre-planned interactions wasn't how Samantha worked.[/i] [i]She would groan, approaching the hammer copy silently, with her own rested upon her shoulder. Before she would raise it up, and begin to smash the fake into pieces. Whatever held the original together was.. unknown, since it was usually a bad idea to bash a weapon against another weapon, yet it remained fine.[/i]
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[spoiler]😿 I planed this encounter for a while. [/spoiler] The warhammer shatters, forming bolts of lightning that shoot at the warrior, doing damage, but not as much as if you touched the warhammer. [i]”you where supposed to pick it up, not smash it” came the voice in her head [/i]
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[i]The Executioner, with electricity coursing through her being, would cry out shrilly and slam her own hammer down again. It seemed as her own weapon had begun to be charged a little by the sudden electricity, as if faintly reminiscing upon something.. before returning null and solid.[/i] "[i]Fight me, you walking rug! Or I'm leaving![/i]"
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A volley of arrows fly at the warrior, with a fireball following them. The arrows came from a nearby rooftop, where the khajiit quickly and silently jumps from one roof to another
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[i]Samantha went easy on the Khajiit for the time - if he was to senselessly pick a fight, so be it.[/i] [i]She brought her massive warhammer up, as the weapon's terrifyingly large head doubled as a shield, being much larger than her own being. From there, Samantha only stepped forward, arrows bouncing off of the weapon and snapping as they hit. While it took some effort, she would heave her being to the side, out of the way of the fireball.[/i]
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The khajiit starts shooting more and more arrows. The voice in your head screams. [i]”your not the warrior I expected but you will do. Plus I saw you kill someone, so consider my acts justified.” [/i]
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[i]Shooting more arrows at a moving wall wasn't exactly logical. Though Samantha didn't let up yet, sighing to herself before she tilted her head a little.[/i] "It's you're. Correction!"
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“The khajiit pulls out a sword. But first he try’s one last attempt to weaken the warrior by casting fear on her
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[spoiler]PLAYER THREE JOINS THE GAME[/spoiler] [i]A flap like massive wings was the only warning the Khajiit got. A form came dashing from the side and to the man's right, a smirk on unseen lips, a six-and-a-half feet long spear poised at him, the foot long tip of solid metal aimed to ram through flesh, bone, and straight through the heart. Samantha would recognise the flying shape as someone she had already met -- namely, her fellow knightess, Eredrin. Four mighty wings were furled up in the simply clothed female's back, folded closely to herself, the dark brown feathers fluttering in the sharp wind as she fell from the sky at a soft angle. Her speed was ineffably great, her form little more than a blur, face and head protected by a helmet shaped like an eagle's head, smithed from gunmetal grey steel, the retinal lenses a soft green. The spear itself was, as already stated, six-and-a-half feet in length, an entire foot dedicated to the tip, which took a cruciform shape, the foot-long, pointed, razor-sharp blade sticking out from what could be considered a guard, two pieces of steel jutting four inches out to the sides, the bland metal inlaid with runes and depictions of lightning. The wooden staff was reinforced with metal and wrapped in leather where the woman would grip it, the oak barely even visible. At her left hip, she wore the hard leather scabbard of a simplistic sword, the thing about three feet in length, only the cruciform guard of steel and leather-wrapped hilt with the oblate spherical pommel visible. Accompanying the angel's fall was a crackle of thunder from an unseen storm, booming across Dojoville.[/i]
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Edited by Warlock Holmes: 1/31/2018 9:29:13 PMThe cat swings his sword out to block the spear. “Did I do something to offend you mrs.... I’m sorry but I never got your name” the khajiit says to the winged creature. He throws a sword up in the air. The sword itself floats up to the winged person. The sword puts its blade close to the winged neck, ready to chop “Now I don’t know you so the sword stays out until you can be proven trustworthy” he says to the winged person. Then magically creates two swords, and jumps of the building he is on, swinging the swords at the warrior below
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Edited by Weeaboo Of War: 1/31/2018 10:26:08 PM[i]Attempting to counter a thrusted weapon with a swing from a smaller, weaker tool was practically naught, with the spear only barely angled off of it's course - barely, for it still pierced the cat's flesh and penetrated his apparel. Through cloth, flesh, and bone, the spear pushed through, lower than it had previously been, yet it went through the intended target nonetheless.[/i] [i]Accompanying the sharp metal's agonizing blow, came several volts of surging electricity. It ran through him like fire ran through a forest in a wrathful blaze, shocking and smoldering his fur and flesh.[/i] [i]Throwing the blade up to meet her neck wasn't as intelligent, either, for that would only grind against the firm gorget that was kept around the angelic being's neck, protecting her from harm as her spearhead pushed through the thief mage entirely.[/i] [i]From below, Samantha, in her rush of adrenaline, had then looked up to peer upon her angel and fellow knightess, smiling underneath the now full faceplate that decorated her head as a shining gilded helmet. Happy was.. one way to describe her, then.[/i]
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[i]The Fear spell crashed against the hulking figurine of the woman, her grip upon her weapon to tighten, that being the only sign that it had succeeded. Whatever images or memories, or whatever it was, that had inspired terror within her.. just seemed to amplify her.[/i] [i]Only, no words left her mouth, as Samantha placed her hammer in her hands and began to slowly approach the mage.[/i]
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[spoiler]choose: Chill Mexican with lightning powers Chill Italian who’s a witch hunter Bubbly but kinda shy werewolf chick Hardass shaman[/spoiler]
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[spoiler]dont care. Roll a dice or something. Preferably someone mean or evil [/spoiler]
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[spoiler]well I mean Shaman just doesn’t put up with bullshit against nature, and Leon gives about 0 shits if he has a rifle pointed towards his head, so I’d say one of those two[/spoiler]
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Edited by Warlock Holmes: 1/30/2018 1:13:19 AMFlip a coin. Heads for Shamam, tales for other guy
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1) Wrong tales. Should be tails 2) will PM the answer.
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[spoiler]whatever. Just flip a coin and on me [/spoiler]
