Old February 7, 2005, 03:14 PM   #1 (permalink)
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A Memory and Vengeance. (Apophis)

The First Brightening of the Month of Immanis,
Spring, Era XI of the Age of Darkening.


The war was lost, and the forces of Enamoira, after a long and hard-fought struggle, had been defeated and the Siege of Malice lifted. This mighty army had not been defeated by the Malice’s overwhelming superiority in arcana, or by its force of uncountable orcish warriors that had resulted in them winning the war, but the political scheming and back stabbing of the Enamorian’s commanders. These commanders, while their soldiers stood, fought and died against the uncountable forces of Malice, had concentrated upon fighting each fighting each other in the background, while the true enemy had killed and destroyed their army around them.

It had been this undefined matte of leadership that had truly defeated the Thirty Thousands strong Army of Enamoira. However, although the burden of dead and wounded had fallen mainly within the ranks of the common soldier, the commanders themselves had not been spared. Some had paid the ultimate price for answering their nation’s call, while others had been captured and faced a fate worst than death at the hands of the Three, the three master-mages of Malice, but worst of all were the ones who had fled and shamed the dead in the Plane of Everdeath.

The shame for the living and dead alike, however, in the eyes of a warrior who had stood within the front rank and faced his enemy with the point of his sword and a strong sword arm, could not easily be forgotten, and vengeance would be had.

~

It was night, a pitch-black night, the type of night that was as dark as the heart of a orc, and a short, shout figure cloaked in a black cloak with the hood up approached the City of Malice from the north and the direction of the Dwarven City of Zerdargia. It was clear to the guards that the figure that approached was a dwarf, a fairly uncommon site within Malice, but not rare enough to be a point of interest.

As the distance between the dwarven figure and the heavily armed guards closed, the alert guards would pick out the obvious shape of the dwarf’s warhammer, and from the flicker of light from the campfires and forges of the orcs, the top of a type of chain mail armour, both of which were common enough site within a city surrounded by uncountable hordes of orcish warriors.

Reaching the entrance to Malice, the dwarven male, although the sex of the dwarf in question would be unknown to the guards, slowly pulled his hood up and exposed his facial features to the guards. The face of the dwarf was dark, sunburnt and showed a lifetime of experience, especially within the grey coloured eyes, which were the eyes of an veteran warrior who had seen the sights that only battle can bring. Except for his eyes, the only other visible feature upon the dwarven male’s face that is not covered by his black beard is his nose.

After several moments in which the sound of a few coins changing hands, the dwarven male with the confident of his race strolled into the City of Malice. It would seem vengeance had come, and it was bearded.
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Old February 8, 2005, 08:40 AM   #2 (permalink)
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I'll be taking this thread for now if you don't mind. If you need Apophis later, he can always step in

ic: Defeat had been fresh on his mind, and that the orcish guard hadn't seen that had been Shorty's only saving grace. As the shadowy dwarf entered Malice, for just a few crowns he could see what he and his entire army had strove for for so long. It had all ended in failure, but he was back for revenge already. Had it ended any other way, perhaps there'd have been a flux of Maliceans into Daltina. All seeking revenge. As the cards fell, it was Daltina who lay crushed. Nobody had expected that, least of all Daltina. They'd vastly underestimated the gret spire.

Truth was, they hadn't even scratched the surface. The bowels of Malice were deeper and darker than any of the Enamorians had ever imagined. Had they breached the walls, the battle would have only just begun. As the cards fell, it hadn't happened. It probably would never happen. Lucky for the enamorians, for those that had died and wished they'd never come to the desolate landscape surrounding the evil city.

Inside everything got bigger then smaller, the tunnels wove everywhere. In and out of large caverns, filled with vendors and guards and buildings built into the walls. This place was more akin to a fortress than to an actual city, and the deeper Coulter went the more he realized just how difficult it would have been to navigate troops through the unknown, strange and winding so called streets. He pressed on anyway though. Shady characters abound, it seemed like a mix of shady back alleys and dark corners. The large open areas were large, and more spaceous than he would have though.

But..was he going down? Just what was the dwarf looking for?
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Old February 9, 2005, 03:55 PM   #3 (permalink)
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In a few short heartbeats, the veteran Daltinan soldier had accomplished a task that an army of thirty thousands had not been able to accomplish within a era, and had entered the dark and mysterious City of Malice alive and free. With his massive dwarven hands firmly clenching his warhammer, the dwarven male cast his glance around the city that had been the cause of so much grieves for the Enamoria Province.

The cesspool that was Malice, seemed from a first glance, to held very little for the stocky dwarven warrior to worry about, and indeed the prospect of travelling underground, and in the eternal darkness that seemed to engulf Malice, held very little fear for the bearded one who’s race had lived and worked in such conditions for ages past. However, having chosen to journey alone into a city that had killed thousands of his comrades-in-arms would mean that the emotional driven dwarf would have to watch his initial steps within such a city before the picture that was Malice became clear.

Therefore in order to begun to construct the picture of Malice, the young dwarven male would have to gather as much information as possible about the City of Malice, and certain members of its hierarchy. It had been information, or lack of, which had been a major factor in the defeat of the Enamorian Forces, and the black-bearded dwarven warrior was not prepared to make the same mistake as his superiors in regards to his and his province’s vengeance.

With the vengeance in mind, the armed and highly motivated dwarven warrior first act was to start to gather information upon The Three, the master-mage leaders of Malice, and any high-ranking individual within Malice. As he was trying to accomplish this, the dwarven male would also begin to understand the social layout/community of Malice. Therefore not knowing, and more importantly not caring, which direction to go or were it led, the white knuckled dwarven warrior would start walking and see were his leather boots would take him.
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Old February 13, 2005, 04:18 AM   #4 (permalink)
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In malice, and surely throughout the rest of the known world, information was king. Those with it were always in control, cool calm and calculated. Those without it were simply no better than dogs, gnashing their teeth, eventually being whipped. Such was the case it seemed wherever Coulter went. Up or down, left or right and everywhere in between the dwarf needed information in one form or another. The biggest question on everyone's mind was "what kind of information do I need, and why?". Simply having it did no good, progressing through something that cannot be defined a pointless endeavor. So the question is this: what kind of information did the dwarf need and why? This he would have to find out on his own, as there was not a single friendly face to be found. Not a single helping hand, no helpful, cheerful guards and no one kind enough to shoot a newcomer a second glance. Guards kept order, or a semblance of it, their job description held nothing more than that. But as we all know, guards are people. Human, orcish, even elven and katta, all people, and as people they could be used. By one method or another.

Coulter's leather boots kept the pace well, and simply walking the halls and tunnels and streets alluded coulter to what kind of place this was. At first glance, the narrow streets and skyless bazaars seemed nothing more than a collected series of chaos's dormitories. Yet there amongst it all were guards, members of Harmony who stood, for the most part, silently. Stoicly they kept their watch, however corruptly it may have been. One could see the fear these men and occasionally women kept over the populace. The city was run on chaos and fear, and it thrived because of it. This was a whole seperate world from Daltina. Different from even Paxia and Vortex, where crime and evil reigned supreme.

If he looked hard enough he'd see patterns of deceit and treachery and of all things. There were habits and cultures here that could not be described by simply looking in from the outside. This wouldn't be as easy as he had first thought.

In a market of no particular note, there seemed to be an unusually large collection of men. Men wearing creative looking armor, both horrifying, dazzling and downright ugly. They were gathered around a man clad in black armor, with silver hair and a determined look about him. Where had Coulter seen this man before? He looked familiar to the dwarf that much was for sure, but from where and when and why? Again, information was king. He could hear him saying something too, issuing orders, not shouting but not talking quietly either. Like a general, commanding his troops.

"I don't care what it takes, just find him, and find him quickly," was what he was saying, Coulter could hear this well enough, but what he could hear was the context clues surrounding it. As the group dispered, the soldiers fanned out, throughout the markets. The silver-headed man just stood there for a moment longer, pulling out a large scroll, reading it up and down.
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Old February 13, 2005, 02:56 PM   #5 (permalink)
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The journey through the mysterious and dangerous streets of Malice both fascinated and frustrated the vengeance-seeking dwarven male. It had became clear to the young dwarven warrior that the City of Malice was like no other city, town or settlement he had ever been within. Unlike the majority of cities within the Empire, there seemed to be no helpful citizen that would point you in the right direction, or spare a minute for a tankard of ale and tell you the local gossip…no Malice was a place like no other, were the strong ruled and the weak were punished and stabbed in the back.

However, this attitude were the powerful ruled had unwittingly played into the mighty hands of Coulter Minith. Being a member of a totally different race, the society and culture of the human race had naturally, for a long time in his century and a half of life, been a mystery to the black bearded dwarven male. In spite of this lack of information, and as a direct result of his recent history within the ‘human’ City of Daltina, Coulter had come to understand the human society somewhat, and knew that to get the general opinion upon a person was not to watch the individual, but to watch how the people surrounding him reacted to his/her presence and to his/her words.

Therefore with the alertness of the veteran warrior that he was, the black-bearded dwarven warrior instantly noted the presence of a large group of armed warrior upon entering the market place. The reactions of the crowds, and the way that the soldiers had immediately obeyed the command of the silver haired human, told a story in itself, this silver haired individual was someone important…how important the dwarven warrior would have to find out.

As the silver haired individual was the first person within the stonewalls of Malice, the experienced dwarven warrior had seen issuing orders to anyone, Coulter Minith decided he would observe and follow the silver haired human. The dwarven male was hoping that the silver haired man was someone important within Malice, or at the very least led him to someone who was, and vengeance would be had. Therefore with the patients of a being that would live for many patterns yet to come, the dwarf waited and watched the particular individual.
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Old February 22, 2005, 07:57 AM   #6 (permalink)
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Blind vengeance could often be a dangerous thing. A stumbling, headless behemoth was as much a danger to those around it as it was to itself. Accusations would fly as they always did. War would follow, but whether that war was internal or external would remain to be seen. There really was no getting around it, as Coulter seemed set on his path. Someone would have to die, there was simply no other way to sate his lust for revenge for the defeat, the treachery, the had occurred in a little tent just outside of the gates of the foul city. Magnus the Red. Coulter had a better chance of catching a lightning bolt in his hand that slaying that man (which, ironically, is what he'd be doing).

The silvery headed human sighed heavily, adjusting his pauldrons. He wore black armor, ferocious and brutal looking, which seemed in contestation of his demeanor, calm and composed. The man seemed like the calm tactitian, sitting in a chair in the middle of swarming, chaotic forces. Coulter could see, under his mild-mannered disposition there lurked something more than that which was given.

At his right was another warrior, one with a fully enclosed helmet and dingy, silvery armor that had faded through heavy use in battle. Both of them seemed experienced, and both of them seemed to be out in full force. But they were leaving, and where was it they were going to? Through the streets, with Coulter secretly in tow, until they came to an alley and headed in, quietly with a few glances around. No one would be foolish enough to follow them in. The casual denizens of Malice did their best to avoid dark alleys whenever possible. Even the thieves and cutthroats feared the things that lurked in the darker corners of the city.

Inside, Coulter could hear words, but sparsely. He was not an elf, after all. They went something like "We are searching now, sir. He will be found." and "Good.", but it was hard to make out. He'd have to figure something out, if Coulter really wanted a good listen. He could see them if he peeked around the corner, and there were plenty of things for someone of his stature to hide behind. But just who were these two men meeting with? And why? Questions that needed answering.
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Old March 19, 2005, 05:43 PM   #7 (permalink)
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Simple choice, right or left had made history, forward or backwards, it was these small and simple choices that changed an individual, a city and even a nation for the better or the worst. One simple choice could, and in fact did, change the life of ten of thousands of people everyday. The choice facing Coulter Minith was a very simple one, enter the alleyway and discover whom the silver-haired human was and to whom he was talking to, or turn around and walk away.

Under normal circumstances, the experienced dwarven male would have chosen to simply turn around and walk away, it was the safest and logical thing to do. However he was not under normal circumstance and he was here to gain vengeance for the death and destructions that had occurred during the Siege of Malice, and the continual threat it still caused to the Enamoria Province and the Empire.

Coulter Minith was unsure if the silver-haired individual was in fact one of the Three or a senior member of the strange government that ruled the City of Malice, and for all the dwarven male knew the silver-haired human could be a simple guardsmen. Never the less, there was a slim chance that he was important and that his death would inflict a certain level of vengeance for the death and destruction that had occurred during the Siege of Malice, and that his fallen comrades could perhaps sleep more easily wherever there sprits were now their bodies were burnt.

Therefore with a very slim chance that the silver-haired individual was in fact important, the black-bearded veteran dwarven warrior choice was made. So with all the experience he had gained over the 151 patterns of his life, Coulter Minith with his dwarven-sized warhammer firmly grasped within his right-hand began to slowly and confidently stroll around the corner into the alleyway and into the unknown
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Old March 21, 2005, 05:25 PM   #8 (permalink)
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Oh ho, the dreams of the dying. They wish to live, yet have seen the darkness creeping over them. They wish to die, for fear of it, and yet, they wish to truly live before that moment comes. Some say the dead and the dying walk the earth, and some are most definitely correct. Coulter could have been anything, and yet, he chose to be one of the accursed, one of the lowly, the forgotten and the plagued. He'd been defeated, that much was fact. His entire army had been defeated by these men here, these cretins. The wastes of oxygen known as the Maliceans had defeated Coulter and his army thousands strong. A laser bolt from a high, perched tower had felled more than one general of Enamorian forces. That had been a terrible crux, and the more Coulter thought about it, the more he had to realize they'd come underequipped to challenge a tower, nay a city, full of magi and terrible demons. And yet he didn't learn from his mistakes. Once again the dwarf sought to challenge the city, this time with his own bare hands. Brave or stupid, fate would be the judge.

As the dwarf strode around the corner, a blinding flash of light erupted from the shadows and for a moment, Coulter saw a flash of red as it disappeared into thin air. In the air was flux, the blinding flash of light quickly dying out, returning the dark alley to what it had been. The two men mumbled between themselves for a moment. As Coulter strode forward, two heads slowly turned to meet him. Though the dwarf could not see through the grey armored mask, he could see his head cock back in idle surprise.

They paused for a moment, before the masked warrior spoke up, his voice grainy and somewhat angry, "not one of mine," he said, a hand on the war axe that clung to his waist. The silver haired soldier turned to face the dwarf, crossing his arms, a look neither angry or amused on his face. He seemed stoic, very silent, reserved. What was this dwarf after, a meaningless death in a dark alley in the backwards city of Malice?

Hold, dwarf. What is it you want?"

Strangely, the man seemed almost complacent, understanding, and not at all alarmed. Though the possibility of an assassin was an apparent, who chose dwarves with warhammers as assassin? Especially against someone like him, such a thing bordered on madness. So, he merely stood, arms crossed, expecting a hastey reply, the blade at his waist firmly in its sheathe.
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Old April 23, 2005, 08:46 AM   #9 (permalink)
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There was next to nothing known about the leadership of Malice available to the outside world. What little was known about this leadership was that the Fortress of Malice was governed and controlled by ‘The Three’. ‘The Three’ were reportedly master mages that had formed a coalition for some unknown, and probably evil, reason, and had created the Fortress of Malice within the wilderness of the Enamoira Province to gather their needs to this end.

‘The Three’ themselves were clouded in the mists of the unknown, and as with the Fortress of Malice next to nothing was known about these three individuals. The only piece of information that Coulter Minith had been able to pick up about ‘The Three’ was the name and a vague description of one of them, Magnus the Red. Magnus the Red was the public figure head of ‘The Three’, and had released several articles within the Herald over the past pattern, including the declaration of the Fortress of Malice to the outside world.

However from these Herald articles, the black-bearded dwarven warrior had been able to gather a vague mental image of Magnus the Red, and neither one of the two he was encountering within the alley seemed to match the description he had read about Magnus the Red. Therefore deciding to play upon this small piece of information, the veteran dwarven warrior would try and lie his way into getting closer to these two apparent warriors, and see what occurred.

Therefore speaking in his heavily dwarven burr of the common tongue, and using the information he had gathered from the Herald articles and what he had overheard these two individuals speaking of just before, Coulter Minith began to speak. ‘Magnus the Red sent me…seems you are having trouble finding someone of importance, and Magnus is getting impatience and has sent me to find him.’ The young dwarven male was hoping for these two individuals to take his words of face value and perhaps supply a bit more information upon who they, and Malice, were looking for.

As he was talking, Coulter Minith continued to slowly and confidently stroll towards the pair with his warhammer held ready.
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Old April 23, 2005, 07:50 PM   #10 (permalink)
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Two cocked brows responded to the dwarf's words, but the short one could only see one. He could tell the silver haired warrior was calculating just what the stout little warhammer wielding guy was all about, but what Coulter couldn't see was to what end. Whether he was trying to decide to kill him or accept his help or whatever the sergeant, or former sergeant or whatever, couldn't figure. Reading people as relaxed as this man was tough, since he seemed to not only be completely at ease with his surroundings, but 100% in synch with them as well. At first he seemed like he wanted to chuckle ever so slowly, but then a long and almost grim look crossed his face, as though he were slightly confused about something. The masked warrior clutched his blade, untrusting of the newcomer, the one claiming to be an ally. He was just like that, that guy. The way he wore his battle armor so casually, he probably slept in it, mask and all.

"You are a mercenary then? Or perhaps you are a bounty hunter. The Red One was just here, but made no mention of you, dwarf," the silver haired one was striding forward then, with the masked warrior still standing back for a moment longer, observing casually. He stopped, meeting Coulter halfway, staring over the dwarf with a malignant gaze, one growing less and less patient by the moment. He seemed like at that moment, someone who did not wish to be tampered with, someone who didn't like little midget irritants bothering them while they worked.

"Go, Dwarf. Before you get me angry."

With his arms crossed, longblade sheathed, the warrior seemed at ease. It was Coulter's move.
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Old May 8, 2005, 11:53 AM   #11 (permalink)
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The knowledge that one of The Three had been here moments before his own arrival, came as something of a surprise to the black-bearded dwarf. Coulter had originally believed that the pair of warriors he had followed from the marketplace were at most of average importance within the unknown hierarchy of Malice. However, if they were receiving orders from Magnus the Red personnel, them these two, Coulter reasoned, were more than they seemed and their deaths would perhaps hurt Malice.

In spite of this discovery, and using all his training and experience he had gained during the century and a half of his life, Coulter Minith hid his emotions and the thoughts rushing through his mind behind a harden and calm face.

As well as this feeling of surprise, was a strong emotion of disappointment; disappointment at missing a opportunity at killing one of the heads of the ‘three-headed serpent’ that governed the Fortress of Malice. However as the old dwarven saying goes ‘there was no point in crying over spilt ale’, and instead the black-bearded dwarf turned his mind onto the matter at hand.

The fact that Magnus the Red had been here moments before, and had naturally never spoken about a dwarf he had no idea about, gave Coulter’s story less creditability and had put his opponents on guard. Nevertheless this fact was not the tragedy it could have been, and the black-bearded dwarf played upon a fact he had seen within the military; superiors usually only tell their inferiors what they need to know, nothing more.

Playing upon this fact, Coulter Minith again spoke in his dwarven burr of the common tongue, ‘What they Red One told ye, or hasn’t told ye, is not me concern…I know what hee told mee. Now why don’t ye go ask his redness, I’ll be arounded.’ With that Coulter Minith suddenly started to turn around as if he were going to head back up the alley. However, the black-bearded dwarven warrior had not suddenly lost his wit, knowing that Magnus had never heard of him, but instead was performing his duty to his city, his province and to his race.

Having finally lost his patience with his discussion, Coulter Minith planned on attacking first, gaining a advantage, and hopefully lowering the odds against him. Therefore using the momentum of his turn, the veteran warrior planned on continuing his turn; making it a complete circle. While doing this, the black-bearded dwarven adventurer would grasp the handle of his warhammer with both his hands and swing his warhammer around with him, hopefully straight into his silver-haired opponent’s face.

Whatever occurred, the dwarven warrior would continue to go upon the offensive and hope to do as much damage as possible while he still held an advantage from is surprise attack.
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Old May 9, 2005, 08:42 PM   #12 (permalink)
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The general reacted. He'd almost been a little too wary of the dwarf, he'd been on his guard, very much so. Had the silver haired soldier reacted the way he should have reacted to Coulter's bogus story, instead of letting Coulter get so close to him. That had been his mistake, and as the dwarf turned to take his leave, the soldier-knight allowed his guard to go down, relaxing his arms. Sighing, as he was about to turn back to the other man, that was when the glint from Coulter's hammer caught his eyes. He'd been caught, it seemed, in a moment of weakness. In actuality the helmet bearing soldier had seen the movements of Coulter, the man had read the dwarf perfectly, and yet he'd not reacted, not said a word, not moved to protect his comrade. Instead the warrior had simply stood there, arms folded, almost expectant.

The hammer Coulter wielded, had be refined, his arms had been honed. He was a dwarven killing machine, taught the principles of warfare throughout his his life. Now, fueled by defeat, misery and anguish the dwarf's swing seemed almost unstoppable as the silver haired general turned to meet it, almost head on, his arms flailing up into a blocking position. Yet there was too much power in the swing, too much ferocity and too much momentum and not enough time for even the veteran general to react with. The blow crashed through the petty and unsmooth defense. His weak, human arms had been unable to guard against the dwarf's savage attack, and as the great warhammer tore through his, probably breaking his forearms and wrists, the real damage was done in what came next.

The head released an audible crack as it impacted against his cheek bones and sent the general sprawling, armor and all, against a wall in the alley. His body coming to rest in an uncouthe, very uncomfortable slouching position, the silver haired man's body slumped to the ground. Blood trailed from his head in splatters across the ground, and streamed down the side of his big, empty...hollow eyes, eyes that peered emptily at the ground. They'd glazed over, grey and cold and unmoving, unblinking. In the split second that had passed, blood now covered the dwarf's hammer, had splattered against his face with the sheer force of connection. It drizzled slowly down the wall against which he lay, and against which it had been slung as his body twisted and writhed under the excruciating force, his brain deeply confused as to what had just happened.

Before suddenly shutting down. He lay there, motionless, still, and Coulter realized that he hadn't hit the man in the cheek at all. The dwarf had hit him more around the temple, but had shattered his helmetless skull, the tiny bits of bone fragment now littering the ground being enough proof of that. It was sad looking, but only for a moment. For a second, this corpse in front of him seemed almost like a person, a real living person, than a simple enemy. But that could never be, now could it? No one who dared to threaten the sovreignty of enamoria with their vile evilness could ever be a person, much less a good person, someone who didn't deserve what they got.

....could they?

The man in full armor hadn't moved. He'd merely been standing there, cross armed, watching as the procession took place. Ever after the silver headed man's body had rolled to a complete stop, he didn't move, didn't flinch. Instead, he released an audible hmmmm, his head tilting down, as though in deep contemplation. It seemed he was obviously not ready to go into battle with Coulter, to take up arms against the man who had mercilessly slaughtered his 'friend'. Fear was no concern her. Coulter had very much slaughtered the general...but he'd done it with a surprise blow. Not much of a thread from as far away as they were. Yet he didn't even seem prepared to defend against a berserk rush from the dwarf. The bearded-one had calculated this, apparently, and wasn't stupid enough to come rushing headlong against a foe of unknown ability such as himself with a weapon like he wielded.

"...Do you know...who that man there is-, er well...was..." he added that last bit with, it seemed, particular relish. As surprising as it sounded, Coulter could almost pick up the sensation that this man was glad that the silver haired warrior was, well, very dead. Almost casually he handled the situation with Coulter, unafraid or perhaps just uncaring of any bloodlust the dwarf might have had against Malice and all its denizens. His helmet hid his expression, but Coulter could see it was something like...amusement.

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Old May 28, 2005, 11:44 AM   #13 (permalink)
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It was over in a moment, one moment Coulter Minith was facing a living, breathing person, and the next moment a headless corpse whose life blood was seeping upon the cold hard ground. For a century and a half, the black-bearded dwarven male had walked upon the planet of Telath, and he felt nothing for the murder he had just committed, and he knew that it was murder.

Too many friends and comrades had died during the struggle with Malice. The murder had been justified in the rocky grey eyes of the dwarven male by the acts of the individual, his city and the war it had started. Had not the silver-haired corpse not admitted to conspiring with Magnus the Red, one of the Three leaders of Malice? Had he not been a soldier of Malice, were only the damned and the evil lived.

Yes he had, and the murder was justified and may Cetheron look upon his child with understanding for such an act.

With barely contented rage and hatred clear with his rocky grey coloured eyes, Coulter Minith turned upon the other servant of Malice. The sole surviving soldier’s attitude surprised and confused the veteran dwarven male, who had thought he had seen everyone, enough to stop an attack before it began.

The attitude to the death of a friend and comrade seemed to have affected the sole-surviving human warrior, and although he was dealing with a member of another race, the veteran dwarven warrior thought he could heard a slight amusing tone in the human soldier’s voice. Therefore, in his dwarven burr of the common tongue and wanting to understand the mutative behind his newest opponent, Coulter Minith replied to the question posed to him.

‘Just another corpse human, that all that silver-haired corpse is to me.’ Slowly with the ease of a veteran warrior, the young dwarven male slowly moved to the left of the corpse upon the floor given himself a dry, clear space in which to fight in. With his grey eyes upon the human soldier waited for his opponent to make the next move.
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Old June 10, 2005, 02:59 PM   #14 (permalink)
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Join Date: Mar 2004
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Sunshine is an upstanding Citizen
Coulter could see the man behind the mask laughing flamboyantly, but he couldn't quite figure out why. The situation was strange, and it was getting weirder by the moment when the man waved off the dwarf's attack posture. He didn't do it in an 'I don't care if you attack me' way, but rather in a 'that really won't be necessary' sort of way. He crossed his arms expectantly, pausing for a moment then chuckled a bit more, amused even further by the short assailant.

"So I see. Well then, you should know that that man there is known as Eric the Redblade, general...former general...of this city, under the Three," already plotting was going on in the back of the man's mind, diabolic things that only a vile evil Malicean could have ever conjured up, "too perfect."

Just then, from the streets behind Coulter he could hear footsteps. Soldiers. They were moving quickly, and arrived before the dwarf could make a move.

"Sir, we haven't fou-" the squad leader stopped cold when he saw the silver headed body of Eric, and the warhammer wielding dwarf who stood poised for another assault. The fully armored man signalled to them, silently.

"Bind him. Strip him of all weapons, then take him back to the base. Quickly, before anyone sees," his words seemed hasty, but they were obeyed quite quickly. Whatever struggle Coulter attempted to put up was in vain, as the ten soldiers rushed him, locking down his arms with quite a few chains and bands. The dwarf's arms were almost too short for it, which made things even more painful for him. His arms had been pulled behind his back, and bound together from wrist to elbow, a Malicean specialty.

The knight-like man approached the dwarf, stopping a foot from him before bending over, so that they were face to mask, "Little dwarf, I don't know who you are or what your purpose in all this is, but I have to thank you. It's now very clear to me that this is an grand opportunity for us...and for you, heh," he looked up at the squad leader, then nodded away, "take him to back to our base, and put him in a holding cell. We will continue this discussion a bit later."

As he was led away through another alley, into the dark Malicean day, Coulter could still hear the insidious laughter emanating from the alleyway.

The building he was led to seemed like most, minus the gate and the numerous scary looking guards. The colors were primarily black, and the crest read "Ebon Legion". The returning soldiers greeted the guards, who also took a long eye over Coulter before returning to their duty. Still, they passed by with no fuss. Inside, things were a bit different. There were weapons everywhere, with men sparring and training just about everywhere you looked. Those who weren't were either cleaning their weapons or repairing them or learning about them or, the one alternative, getting in a few hours of sleep before going back to doing one of the aforementioned activities.

The rest of the warriors broke off, and Coulter found himself handed over to a pair of men with keys dangling from their belts.

Coulter found himself led down a hallway with a few twists and turns, on man in front and one behind, before finally being unbound and thrown into a small, dark cell with almost no light. A bucket in the corner made its use apparently clear, and a little mat that wouldn't have fit anyone bigger than him lay opposite.

"Well well, you need anything dwarf, you just holler," the man who had thrown him in almost cackled, "the commander will be by in a bit."

And with that, they departed, leaving Coulter alone in the tiny, uncomfortable and dimly lit cell...
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