Posted: 26 Jul 2005 08:34 pm
The mist was cold, almost clammy, as he strode through it’s heart towards what he knew should be the docks beyond. Darkness enshrouded the land between the figure and his destination. Having traveled these grounds countless times before, the path to the wooden planks which allowed for embarkation aboard one of the many ships ferrying passenger’s between here and Menethill Harbor was well known to the sole of his holy boots. And where most beings might be seeking shelter from this seemingly dreary, damp and seemingly foreboding night, with the mist growing in thickness through each passing moment, the dwarf virtually shrugged off the environment. Lord Imaicaan Mae’Stro had purpose in each step he took, and no mere mist would keep him from boarding the next boat to arrive at port in Southshore.
Indeed, with his magnificent Bloodmoon cloak flowing behind him and the soft glow emanating from the Frostguard blade hung at his side, he might well have looked like some long lost apparition to any bystander along the walkways of Southshore. That is, if they could see him at all through the mist.
As his feet began to fall upon the planks of the dock of the small village in the northern province, he heard the familiar ‘click, click, click’ of lightforge against wood. He stopped for a moment to ascertain which side of the dock he stood upon.
“Milord…” came a soft elven voice from slightly to his left hand side. He stood motionless for a full five seconds waiting to see if the woman said anything more. “We are not alone within this fog sire.”
In a voice which beguiled his age, the Paladin simply retorted “I smelled the undead fool when we left the Inn, Lady Navarra. But thank you.”
The holy knight had no sooner spoken the words when a loud hiss could suddenly be heard to the right of where he stood, some 15 feet beyond the side of the dock.
“Sssooo…you think yourssself noble, dwarf? You are nothing….lesssss than nothing…before my lord Tidussss…”
The stately dwarf still could not see the undead assassin, but he knew simply from the direction in which the voice was coming that the Rogue had been hoping to ambush the small band of Refugees awaiting the arrival of the boat this night. He knew also, through long, hard-won experience, that the minions of his adversary rarely traveled alone, instead preferring the safety of numbers much like a pack of wild-dogs from the desert lands of the Barrens. He knew also, that it would not be long now before the enemy launched it’s attack against he and his fellow travelers.
Standing at his back, he could sense the two night-elfs, Dreamz and Navarra, begin to call up their various arcane powers. He sensed also the slight breeze as the noble gnome, and his fellow leader, Nittering brushed past him in his stealthed form. And his hearing was still good enough to hear too the small ‘click’ as the great dwarven warrior Dtaylor removed the small leather strap which held his sword to his side. Indeed, he knew, his brethren stood ready to put down any onslaught the enemy might throw at them this night.
Suddenly, a totem appeared as if from nowhere directly in the middle of the docks, it’s magicks pulsing out a wicked orange and yellow light which quickly dissipated the fog which had been shrouding the walkway.
"Shaman!" came Dtaylor’s voice slightly behind him and to the left.
The druidess, Navarra, moved with lightning-like reflexes to extinguish the totem set within their midst. Imajicaan turned his head slightly to the right and saw two extremely large, bull-like creatures beginning to charge the small band of friends’ current position. He knew the strength of these Tauren all too well having faced many of their kind on so many occasions he had nearly forgotten half of them by now. But the battle was to be joined, and after the events of the past few days, Lord Imajicaan himself was seemingly itching for a fight.
Unsheathing his Frostguard, and pulling his great shield from his back, the Refugees diminutive leader raised the blade high into the air with his right hand and simply said ‘Walk with honor…’ before he leapt headlong into the path of the charging foe.
The night suddenly exploded with arcane magic of all kinds. Lady Navarra was unleashing the forces of nature at her command towards a troll hunter and his pet whom had just come from the grove of trees which lay beyond the buildings to the west of the small town; Dtaylor had engaged what Imajicaan thought to be one of the largest Orc Shaman he had ever seen; Nittering, he knew, was searching out the undead Rogue whose words had predated the attack; and the priestess, Dreamz, was standing on the docks casting her healing magic at each member of the party as they engaged the enemy.
An arrow suddenly glanced off of Imajicaan’s great Lightforge shoulder guards. He heard the ‘clank’ of the tip as it struck his armor but paid no attention to it, nor the beast whom had sent it flying towards him, as he knew that Navarra would in short time be paying special attention to the hunter whom had dared to attack Refugees guild sovereign whilst he was engaged with the two much larger Tauren warriors. Instead, the dwarf seemed to become a fluid body in perpetual motion, not unlike the great sea which lay mere feet from the battle itself.
‘First the big one’ he thought to himself as he seemed to slightly kneel to his left in a feigning motion while bringing his blade from right to left in a slicing motion directed at the largest of the attackers’ left knee. Barely reacting to the ‘thud’ the creature made as it hid the hard dirt, Mae’Stro spun in a tight circle so wicked he appeared to be a spring uncoiling itself as he thought to himself ‘…And now the ugly one.’ The finishing move of the spin was the blow he delivered to the left thigh of the 2nd Tauren. His great Force Reactive disk, turned on edge during his spin, cut the foes leg clean in two and the dwarf literally rolled to his left, barely regaining his footing as the second Tauren fell face first into the dirt where the Refugees’ leader had been standing a mere 3 seconds prior. He wheeled back around and drove the tip of his Frostguard into the back of the neck of the beast, his right hand on the hilt and his left firmly on the butt of the handle. As he pulled the blade back out of the foe now dead at his feet, he spun round once more to ascertain the fortunes of his comrades and to offer aid if needed.
The dwarf could hardly suppress a small chuckle at the sight which greeted him. Dtaylor stood over the body of the Troll Hunter which Lady Navarra had cast her ensaring roots upon, his blade having cut the vile looking creature nearly in half; Dreamz had silenced the shaman, thus negating his ability to summon forth anymore totems, and Nittering had then quickly garotted the somewhat befuddled Orc whom had been focusing his attentions on Dtaylor. ‘How surprised must he have been?’ Imajicaan thought to himself at the sight of the dead shaman;The undead rogue whose banter had begun the attack lay in rotting pieces, still smoldering from one of Navarra’s lightning bolts it seemed.
“Arrggghhh… filthy….dwarf!” came the guttural speech of the Tauren warrior which the Refugees’ leader had first taken down to begin the battle. Laying there writhing in obviously considerable pain the giant cow-like creature was grasping at it’s knee with both hands, blood continuing to seep out past it’s large, gnarled fingers.
“Moo to you too, buddy! You know how long it’s been since I had a good beefsteak?” came the sarcastic tones of Dtaylor as he approached the fallen enemy to deliver what would surely be a killing blow. The rest of the party all seemed to smile at the humor of the great dwarven warrior as he moved in for the kill. Lord Imajicaan however, seemed to have something different in mind.
“Hold Dt…” he said as he too began moving towards the fallen foe.
“Aye, boss. Whatcha got in mind for tubby here?” Dtaylor queried his old firend.
Imajicaan sheethed his Frostguard, and reslung his grand shield to it’s normal place on his back, finishing up just as he came within three feet of the still-bleeding enemy.
“Like I always tell you Dt…take their knees out, and even the biggest of these uglies won’t be up long enough to do much harm,” the leader said with a small chuckle to himself.
“I….will…kill…you…dwarf!” growled the Tauren through his obviously clenched teeth. He was rolling from side-to-side still grasping at his knee as if he could stop the bleeding.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort Tauren! In fact, if you hope to live at all, you’ll start telling me everything I want to know. And right now, I want to know everything that you know about where I might find Tidus…”
The mist was cold, almost clammy, as he strode through it’s heart towards what he knew should be the docks beyond. Darkness enshrouded the land between the figure and his destination. Having traveled these grounds countless times before, the path to the wooden planks which allowed for embarkation aboard one of the many ships ferrying passenger’s between here and Menethill Harbor was well known to the sole of his holy boots. And where most beings might be seeking shelter from this seemingly dreary, damp and seemingly foreboding night, with the mist growing in thickness through each passing moment, the dwarf virtually shrugged off the environment. Lord Imaicaan Mae’Stro had purpose in each step he took, and no mere mist would keep him from boarding the next boat to arrive at port in Southshore.
Indeed, with his magnificent Bloodmoon cloak flowing behind him and the soft glow emanating from the Frostguard blade hung at his side, he might well have looked like some long lost apparition to any bystander along the walkways of Southshore. That is, if they could see him at all through the mist.
As his feet began to fall upon the planks of the dock of the small village in the northern province, he heard the familiar ‘click, click, click’ of lightforge against wood. He stopped for a moment to ascertain which side of the dock he stood upon.
“Milord…” came a soft elven voice from slightly to his left hand side. He stood motionless for a full five seconds waiting to see if the woman said anything more. “We are not alone within this fog sire.”
In a voice which beguiled his age, the Paladin simply retorted “I smelled the undead fool when we left the Inn, Lady Navarra. But thank you.”
The holy knight had no sooner spoken the words when a loud hiss could suddenly be heard to the right of where he stood, some 15 feet beyond the side of the dock.
“Sssooo…you think yourssself noble, dwarf? You are nothing….lesssss than nothing…before my lord Tidussss…”
The stately dwarf still could not see the undead assassin, but he knew simply from the direction in which the voice was coming that the Rogue had been hoping to ambush the small band of Refugees awaiting the arrival of the boat this night. He knew also, through long, hard-won experience, that the minions of his adversary rarely traveled alone, instead preferring the safety of numbers much like a pack of wild-dogs from the desert lands of the Barrens. He knew also, that it would not be long now before the enemy launched it’s attack against he and his fellow travelers.
Standing at his back, he could sense the two night-elfs, Dreamz and Navarra, begin to call up their various arcane powers. He sensed also the slight breeze as the noble gnome, and his fellow leader, Nittering brushed past him in his stealthed form. And his hearing was still good enough to hear too the small ‘click’ as the great dwarven warrior Dtaylor removed the small leather strap which held his sword to his side. Indeed, he knew, his brethren stood ready to put down any onslaught the enemy might throw at them this night.
Suddenly, a totem appeared as if from nowhere directly in the middle of the docks, it’s magicks pulsing out a wicked orange and yellow light which quickly dissipated the fog which had been shrouding the walkway.
"Shaman!" came Dtaylor’s voice slightly behind him and to the left.
The druidess, Navarra, moved with lightning-like reflexes to extinguish the totem set within their midst. Imajicaan turned his head slightly to the right and saw two extremely large, bull-like creatures beginning to charge the small band of friends’ current position. He knew the strength of these Tauren all too well having faced many of their kind on so many occasions he had nearly forgotten half of them by now. But the battle was to be joined, and after the events of the past few days, Lord Imajicaan himself was seemingly itching for a fight.
Unsheathing his Frostguard, and pulling his great shield from his back, the Refugees diminutive leader raised the blade high into the air with his right hand and simply said ‘Walk with honor…’ before he leapt headlong into the path of the charging foe.
The night suddenly exploded with arcane magic of all kinds. Lady Navarra was unleashing the forces of nature at her command towards a troll hunter and his pet whom had just come from the grove of trees which lay beyond the buildings to the west of the small town; Dtaylor had engaged what Imajicaan thought to be one of the largest Orc Shaman he had ever seen; Nittering, he knew, was searching out the undead Rogue whose words had predated the attack; and the priestess, Dreamz, was standing on the docks casting her healing magic at each member of the party as they engaged the enemy.
An arrow suddenly glanced off of Imajicaan’s great Lightforge shoulder guards. He heard the ‘clank’ of the tip as it struck his armor but paid no attention to it, nor the beast whom had sent it flying towards him, as he knew that Navarra would in short time be paying special attention to the hunter whom had dared to attack Refugees guild sovereign whilst he was engaged with the two much larger Tauren warriors. Instead, the dwarf seemed to become a fluid body in perpetual motion, not unlike the great sea which lay mere feet from the battle itself.
‘First the big one’ he thought to himself as he seemed to slightly kneel to his left in a feigning motion while bringing his blade from right to left in a slicing motion directed at the largest of the attackers’ left knee. Barely reacting to the ‘thud’ the creature made as it hid the hard dirt, Mae’Stro spun in a tight circle so wicked he appeared to be a spring uncoiling itself as he thought to himself ‘…And now the ugly one.’ The finishing move of the spin was the blow he delivered to the left thigh of the 2nd Tauren. His great Force Reactive disk, turned on edge during his spin, cut the foes leg clean in two and the dwarf literally rolled to his left, barely regaining his footing as the second Tauren fell face first into the dirt where the Refugees’ leader had been standing a mere 3 seconds prior. He wheeled back around and drove the tip of his Frostguard into the back of the neck of the beast, his right hand on the hilt and his left firmly on the butt of the handle. As he pulled the blade back out of the foe now dead at his feet, he spun round once more to ascertain the fortunes of his comrades and to offer aid if needed.
The dwarf could hardly suppress a small chuckle at the sight which greeted him. Dtaylor stood over the body of the Troll Hunter which Lady Navarra had cast her ensaring roots upon, his blade having cut the vile looking creature nearly in half; Dreamz had silenced the shaman, thus negating his ability to summon forth anymore totems, and Nittering had then quickly garotted the somewhat befuddled Orc whom had been focusing his attentions on Dtaylor. ‘How surprised must he have been?’ Imajicaan thought to himself at the sight of the dead shaman;The undead rogue whose banter had begun the attack lay in rotting pieces, still smoldering from one of Navarra’s lightning bolts it seemed.
“Arrggghhh… filthy….dwarf!” came the guttural speech of the Tauren warrior which the Refugees’ leader had first taken down to begin the battle. Laying there writhing in obviously considerable pain the giant cow-like creature was grasping at it’s knee with both hands, blood continuing to seep out past it’s large, gnarled fingers.
“Moo to you too, buddy! You know how long it’s been since I had a good beefsteak?” came the sarcastic tones of Dtaylor as he approached the fallen enemy to deliver what would surely be a killing blow. The rest of the party all seemed to smile at the humor of the great dwarven warrior as he moved in for the kill. Lord Imajicaan however, seemed to have something different in mind.
“Hold Dt…” he said as he too began moving towards the fallen foe.
“Aye, boss. Whatcha got in mind for tubby here?” Dtaylor queried his old firend.
Imajicaan sheethed his Frostguard, and reslung his grand shield to it’s normal place on his back, finishing up just as he came within three feet of the still-bleeding enemy.
“Like I always tell you Dt…take their knees out, and even the biggest of these uglies won’t be up long enough to do much harm,” the leader said with a small chuckle to himself.
“I….will…kill…you…dwarf!” growled the Tauren through his obviously clenched teeth. He was rolling from side-to-side still grasping at his knee as if he could stop the bleeding.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort Tauren! In fact, if you hope to live at all, you’ll start telling me everything I want to know. And right now, I want to know everything that you know about where I might find Tidus…”
----------------------------------------------------------------
