She who stalks....

Started by Rheorix, January 07, 2006, 12:09:21 AM

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Rheorix

Rain pattered against tents, and the helmets of sentry guards abouts.? Paw and claw sank in mud and splashed in puddles as guards were changed.? The army lay in wait for the storm to pass.? Soon she would order the move.? And when that time came woe to any gentle beast in the wake of The She-wolf.

Rheorix had been scouting around, the camp at times miles away.? Her cunning blue eyes seeking out any thing worth pillaging, destroying.? Within days the cries of woe would raise at her blade.? Soon..

The She-wolf would bring the terror of her army to this land!

Rheorix bore many scars of her earlier days, though few were seen unnder her snowy white,? thick fur.? Still in the summer of her life, she was fleet of foot and beautiful.? But her eyes were cold like mountain ice.? Her alabaster teeth glistened in the rain scattered moonlight.

Returning to her muddy camp, guards saluted as she slipped into her tent.? It was hardly opulant.? A bed made from the skins of fallen leaders, a table littered with maps and the remains of a large pike she had dined upon some hours before.

From the Northlands, she had made few allies, and even now she held little kinship and highly a regard for her clanmates.? Still, she never spoke word too large to her captains, or fellow generals of any malintent.? Her eyes carried the intent, but without words none could challenge her.? Not even a fox could match the cunning of Rheorix the She-wolf.

Some while ago she had recieved word that an army, led by a rogue rat, had been attacking other members of her clan.? Only days ago, his armies had swept hers back.? Her losses were not high, only beasts.? But just as she bristled inwardly at his gaull, she swore to end his existance.

A common rat to blatantly attack her.? And not only her, but her clanmates as well.? It would'nt? be him that would end their lives.

It would be her for his, like the reaper in an old chicken's sleep.? She would soon knaw on his bones before adorning her standard with his skull.



Arguing online is like running in the Special Olympics.? Even if you win, you're still retarted.

Gen. Volkov

OOC: OMG! A new thread! I thought the RP section was dead and fossilized by now! w00t! Umm sorry, I don't have anything to add at the moment, just an expression of joy. Welcome to RWL though.
It is said that when Rincewind dies the occult ability of the entire human race will go up by a fraction. -Terry Pratchett

cloud says: I'm pretty sure I'm immune to everything that I can be immune to...brb snorting anthrax.

Sticker334 says(Peace Alliance): OMG! HOBOES

Rheorix

(OOC:  Are we allowed to add OOC to game posts here?  Anyway thanks... let me know if you like it.)


Arguing online is like running in the Special Olympics.? Even if you win, you're still retarted.

Wolf Snare

#3
*
1. Fire Bringer (#22)
1. Jaturungkabart (#12)
1. Estranged (#50)
1. Fierce Deity (#17) 
1. bored... (#98)
1. Versace (#24)
1. Noah Calhoun (#10)
1. Day Old Hate (#7)
1. The Grand Optimist (#12)
1. Beast Mode (#7)

Klowd19

Death!!

There was no escaping it, not when confronted by the Lord of the Axe.  His blade came down with extreme force, splitting the rat before him in two before coming around to chop into the side of a weasel who came at him with a lance.  They fell by the dozen as he plowed through their ranks, leaving a trail of bloody carnage in his wake.  He snarled as he cut down his first officer, slashing into his shoulder before crushing the beast's ribs with the flat of the double-headed battle axe.  Why?  Why all this death?  Why must he kill his own comrades?  An ally fell at his side, an arrow protruding from his throat.  Sharn Riconda, wielder of the great axe Geddon, surged forward and slew the archer in one sweep of the weapon.  He moved on.

It had begun the day before when one of his generals, Stoutclaw, had defected from the troops, taking with him almost half of the army.  A herald had returned that night.  Stoutclaw had declared war against Sharn, vowing to conquer the army and rule in his stead.  Sharn had met with Stoutclaw, allowing the scarred ferret to speak with him in his private tents.  Sharn had known for months that Stoutclaw had despised the warlord, thus there was no questioning his motives.  The black wolf's only question was how he had convinced so many other beasts to join him.  "How?"  Stoutclaw had replied.  "They believe you planned to hold back there pay."

"And who gave them that idea?"

"A lie here and there, it wasn't that hard for me to spread such a rumor.  Feel lucky so many of your vermin still hold such loyal ties to you."

The battle had begun at dawn and carried on now hours into the day.  Both sides had suffered heavy losses and Sharn knew this civil war would be over soon.  Very soon.  Everything depended on one fight, one clash of blades.  They met at the heart of the battle, axe meeting sword under the canopy of trees.  Stoutclaw fought hard, he had not been a general for nothing, but even he knew he was no match for the Lord of the Axe.  The ferret cried in joy as, by a streak of pure luck, his sword glanced from the curved axe blade to plunge into the flesh of the warlord's hip.  The wolf howled in blind fury and Geddon crashed down, snapping the sword's blade from its hilt.  Sharn slammed the weapon forward, the empty space at the top of the axe, just between the blades, catching Stoutclaw by the throat and pinning him to a tree.  Stoutclaw struggled, fighting to free himself and prolong his life.  It was a futile effort and he knew it.  The wolf leaned close, the heat of his foul breath stinging the ferret's one good eye.  "Tell them," Sharn snarled.  The traitor struggled more.  "Tell them!"

Stoutclaw's raspy voice rang out, shouting above the clamor of steel on steel on flesh.  It was a cry to lay down arms, to cease the attack.  The warring beasts stopped and turned, all eyes on the two leaders.  "It was a lie!  Riconda never planned to rob you!  His word was true, his payment honest."  The troops hissed and growled, anger surging at this revelation.  It was Sharn's voice, powerful, strong, that now called to the animals.  "You see now?  This was all for nothing!  Such death all to aid  this scum who thought he was better than me!  A beast who had to use deceit to turn you to his cause!"  He drew Geddon away from Stoutclaw, allowing the beast to slump to the ground in harsh defeat.  Sharn turned to the angry crowd and walked.  They parted for him, letting him pass in silence.  When he was through, clear of the ranks of troops, he stopped.  He spoke but did not turn.  "Do with him what you will."

Such was the life of Sharn Riconda, Lord of the Axe, the Deathdealer.  It was war and it was neverending.  Victory was now and forever his.

The Lady Shael

OOC: You can do whatever you want. Well, not really. We used to frown on OOC posts in the RP forum, but that was back when people actually role-played. We'd even have a separate topic for OOC posts if the RP got really long. But OOC posts are fine here for now. Keep up the rping though, we need more of it.
~The Lady Shael Varonne the Benevolent of the Southern Islands, First Empress of Mossflower Country, and Commandress of the Daughters of Delor

RWLers, your wish is my command...as long as it complies with the rules.


Rheorix

It had been days since she had last heard word from her mate, or her clan for that matter.  Rheorix sat in her tent looking over her charts and maps, planning the next day's march.  Still, she was distracted by daydreams.  Feeling the pull at her sanity.

A warlord cares not for love, only power.  But still, that small part of her knew the season was moving upon her.  And come summer she would seek him out unfailingly.  IF she had to cut down his entire army she would.


"Here I is M'lady!  Just as you arsked."  Samuel, a rather lavishly dressed ferret, shuddered as his mistresses icy glare slid towards him.  His jewelry and medals jangled as he quaked at her tent entrance.  Still, he saluted smartly.

"Make it quick Sam, or I'll make you my next meal."

"Discarded camp M'lady, less than a mile off.  There's some scattered tead.  Axe wounds by the look of 'em.  But.. there be sommat horrible there."

"And what would that be?" The white wolf taped a claw from a large, path greened paw.

"A soat it looks like, cruicified M'lady."

Baring her fangs, Rheorix grinned at the news.  "THis meeting is over Samuel, you've served me well.  YOu can live yet another day."

Samuel needed no second bidding.  He scrambled away with all speed.

Rheorix marked the place on the map, and would march the path of the clanmate that left the discarded camp.  Her nose had not lied.

Sharn the Deathdealer had been there.  Not two days past.


Arguing online is like running in the Special Olympics.? Even if you win, you're still retarted.

Faerd

#7
Faerd Quickclaw rose from his makeshift bed. Peeking outside the lizard flicked his tongue out, catching a droplet of rain upon it. Of all the days to rain... he thought angrily. Gathering his handcrafted dagger he made his way through the masses of milling rats, weasels, stoats, and foxes to Rheorix's tent. Slapping away the door Faerd walked in, a small trail of mud making its way in his wake. "You called, Milady?" he asked rhetorically, "Sssso what isss it now? A new perssson who needs killing?" Faerd grinned wickedly, tapping the dagger with a green-scaled paw. Only then did he see the rat, Samuel, standing next to the warlord. Quick as lightning Faerd drew his dagger and tripped the rat, the point of the dagger now at his throat. "What are you doing here?" he hissed angrily. A small shiver went down Faerd's spine and he realized that Rheorix was looking at him. "Sssorry milady, I didn't know he wasss sent for... You never know whom may be an assassin these daysss."

(Hey first time RP'ing on these forums, lemme know how I do plz =D)
"7/5th's of the world's populace do not understand fractions. 48% of all statistics are wrong"

"Because my Reality-Defining-Gun says so..."

~Faerd, Rhubarb of Randomness

taekwondokid42

Chraz the longtail tail looked at the dice. They told him that there had been much blood recently. A war was brewing. He knew it.

"Come in here!"

"Yes sir, what is it?"

"I need you to do everything you can to prepare the army for a war. The war itself will not be difficult to win, it will be the journey that may kill us. Prepare the army to travel five thousand leagues. Along the way we must keep fit, and we must remain well fed. I do not know how often we will be able to re-supply, and I do not want us all to die before our destination. We leave one week from now!"

"But sir, one week is not nearly enough time for us to get ready! We sti-

"ENOUGH, if you do not want to collect some food, we'll just have you BE the food."

"One week! It shall be done!"