[FL] Fantasy Lynching: Blood alone turns the Wheels of History

[industrious]

Rand Al'Thor

"Some of your men might arrive rather sooner than that. Your Lord has requested medics and Earthcrafters; you may bring them through the portal immediately..."

Then he feels it. The scars on his side errupt in pain, and he staggers for a moment. Shadowspawn. A strong one. And close.

"...get back to the portal. Get everyone through. Now!"

Rand ties off the weave, running towards the Witch-King with breakneck speed. As the Lord of Angmar raises his sword, intent on driving it through Alera's Lord, a stream of balefire streaks through the air, reducing the weapon(and the scars on Tavi's cheeks) to nothing.

"I think you should leave now."

Rand is deep within the flame and void, and the first of the Nazgul feels one with power exceeding his. And while he cannot be slain by any man, he feels fear in the remains of his black heart.

"You are protected by prophecy, Witch-King. But the Last Battle is not upon us. And I, too, must live until that day."

Cleon

He continues to hold the line, himself and Sonja managing to keep them at bay.

"Have any bright ideas?" he mutters.

Allecia and Pellew

Pellew abruptly speaks up, shocking Allecia into silence.

"I was like that, once. Wanted to be a hero. Quested in pursuit of glory, for honor and greatness. For truth and beauty, and all things that were holy. For years, I chased a dream, and when I finally had it in my grasp, I realized that all was not as it seemed. And now...I am a bodyguard."

Having said is piece, he returns to his porridge.

[Colesign]

Tavi

Tavi leaps to his feet as fast as he can, just in time to feel the cuts wink out of existence.

"Isana's clear, chala." He says to his wife. They exchange a nod, then turn and thrust their sword blades toward the Witch King.

"Araris!" Tavi shouts in warning.

Fire-Spheres spring from the shafts of their gladii, and fly toward the Witch King, exploding on impact.

[Corvond]

Lord Angmar
He hadn't seen Arasis coming, and had tried to parry an attack with a sword that wasn't there. He staggered back, the righted himself, a terrible flail in his hand. Even the chains were cruel and barbed, the head heavy twisted iron tipped with tearing, gouging spikes.

Then fire disperses harmlessly before it reaches him. He fears and haters fire as do all the unquiet dead, but he is a sorcerer beyond peer, and effortlessly dispels them. It was a fairly minor attack, Tavi simply testing the waters to see what he was up against.

He did not look amused.

"I came for thee, Lews Therin." He hissed back, his darkness rolling and growing still more terrible. Lews Therin remembered him, but he had been a wight even then, a terrible reverent who had existed to fulfill Sauron's will. Not even he knew Lord Angmar's name, or who he had been before the ring had worked it's will upon him. No doubt the wraith had forgotten it himself.

"Know this. The wheel is breaking, and you only hasten it's destruction. My master will walk this land again, and he shall have domination of all life. Even thou shalt bow before him."

He stares into his bright eyes, his darkness seeming to be reduced even as he does. "But it is not the time. When we next meet, I shall break you."

Then he threw back his head and shrieked. It went on and on, growing in power until even Rand fell to his knees, terror stealing the stregnth it had taken to face Angmar. Then it ended, the clouds that covered the heavens began to disperse, and both the lord of the Nine and Isanna were gone.

Jaime Lannister
"None of us are the men we are supposed to be." Jaime replies, and you sense more then know that the moment is over. He stands up, straightens his clothes, then tucks his chair in.

"Well, I did promise to introduce you to my lord father.

Gaborn
The King of the Earth comes to the people's palace, no more noticeable then the farmers and tradesmen coming in to sell there wares, his staff clacking against the ground as he walks. He looks weary and tired, but he has an expression of deep concentration.

[darkblade]

Lawrence

"I think that might make the problem worse." Lawrence says at the mention of slitting the Guardian's throat.

He listens to the clergy's diagnosis but shakes his head. "That can't be right. He's in far too much pain for it not to be a major wound."

***

Holo

Provided these wolves don't have any magic in them Holo is a good five times the size of even the biggest of the pack. She howls out to them extending her command as a nature spirit. "Pack of One Eye, I, Holo the Wise Wolf come hunting in search of men. Have a group of men passed through your woods with large amounts of cargo within the last moon?"

***

Zasamal

"I have the weak point. Gather your men Soth, time is of the essence." Zasamal says with a wicked grin.

[Cracklord]

Lawrence
The priest looks at you. The he indicates. "It's barely a scratch. I can stitch him up, but there isn't much need, he's barely bleeding."

Holo
The pack responds, recognizing what you are. A wagon followed the road down, laden with chests. It was far better guarded then even the most paranoid merchants caravan, and it traveled last night. You get there scents, but it won't help you much, human places all smell so much it's almost impossible to track with scent within them. You'll have to find out who is missing in the village.
At least you got a direction. East.
Back towards D'Hara.

Zasamal
You have a hundred men, each of them of the Vardens best. You have Lord Soth, and you have your own considerable powers. Roran stands beside you, his heavy blacksmiths hammer resting on his shoulder, wearing no helmet.

Cleon, Sonja
The rats are tightening the noose, just out of range of your swords arm. Occasionally one will nip forward, then dart back as you swing to face it, another one then darting at your unprotected back.

Jaime Lannister, Allecia and Pellew
Servants begin cleaning up, removing the remains of the meal and implements. In moments, there is no sign that there was ever a meal there.

Lord Angmar
You are standing on a hill outside the city. The hill is a burial mound to some long lost tribe, ancient men long forgotten. Four other shadows stand with you, as well as Ishmael, or Morridin as he prefers to be called.
He stares down at her. She'll wake up soon, the effects are already dispersing.

Gaborn
The guards don't even pay attention to you, they just wave you in.

[industrious]

The Dragon Reborn

The Wraith shrieks, and Rand feels its power. Yet he stands, and continues to stand, defiant until the last. He had faced the Dark One, and resealed him inside the Bore; not even his greatest servant could match the fear and awe of the Strike at Shayol Ghul, of seeing the Dark One face to face.

But now is not the time for contest, and Rand quickly checks upon Octavian.

"Are you well, Lord Octavian?"

Cleon

It couldn't end this way. It could not end this way. He wouldn't let it.

As the next would-be assassin charges at his back, Cleon drops to a single knee, letting the assailant fly over head, and then, drawing the dagger concealed within his boot, slashing at its chest.

It isn't a good hit, not at all. Barely a scratch, really. And yet, the creature grows limp as the weapon strikes home. It topples to the ground, lifeless.

Mehrune's Razor. A highly feared weapon, and rightly so, for it had the power to slay any foe whose blood whetted the blade, and send that person's soul to the waste's of Oblivion, to be tortured forever by Mehrunes Dagon. Of course, that power did not work with every strike, but still. All it took was a scratch from its blade...

"Come on," he mutters. "Come on and have at it. We aren't done for. Not quite yet."

[Colesign]

Tavi

{You know...this is the upteenth time Isana has gotten abducted. It's kinda frustrating.

Still, Isana's a cool character, because of her great inner strength, courage, and constantly growing ability to turn bad situations to her advantage.

All I ask is that you do her justice, Cracklord.}

Tavi rises to his feet with a growing sense of panic.

"Isana!" He says. "Isana!!!! Mom!!!!!!!!!!"

No sign of her. He summons wind furies to himself, and begins to take to the air in a desperate attempt to go after the Witch-King...wherever he is.

{IF anyone wants to stop him...}

[industrious]

Rand Al'Thor

Rand acts quickly, wrapping bonds of Air around Tavi before the man does anything rash.

"Hold on! Burn you, wait a moment, and think rationally!"

If Tavi really thought hard enough about it, he probably would find breaking Rand's weave to be quite easy. That being said, he wasn't thinking rationally at all at the moment, so the First Lord was quite stuck at the moment.

"He's taken her. And it's Night, when these creatures are at their strongest. And you don't know a thing about wraiths, and he knows the territory. Think. Plan. Then Act. And Min calls me wool-headed..."

[Cracklord]

Lord Angmar
Isanna turns to Ishmael, who she decides must be in charge. He certainly looks the part, the only human amongst these dread phantoms, himself just as dark and terrible.
She doesn't like the feel of him. He's not as inhuman as the wraiths, but that only makes it worse, for his cruelty and darkness is all natural, intrinsic to him. She has been at the mercy of some terrible things, but this is even worse then the Vord. The Vord had not been human, and had a cold, mechanical efficiency. They had not delighted in suffering.
"Well, if you are determined to have an enemy, well done, you have succeeded. I can guarantee my son will hunt you down and kill you now."
Ishmael smiles at that, but his eyes darken and narrow, and their is no humor when he speaks. "You remind me of my wife. I hated her." He says and strikes her across the face.
Isanna's had snaps around, her cheek burning. She turns slowly, and stares at him levelly again. The right side of her face is yellowy purple, already bruising. She doesn't say a word, she just lets her scorn show, at a man who would strike an unarmed woman.
Incensed, Ishmael strikes her again, and she collapses, unconscious.

Cleon
Chang Squik glanced out round the doorway and gnawed the tip of his til in frustration. It was all going wrong. It had all started when that fool Noi had swung through the window (he dimly recalled telling him something, but surely it can't have been encouragement. No, clearly he had disregarded the training). In their enthusiasm to be a part of the kill, the rest of the pack had all tried to get in at once, all eager to claim their share of the glory, and the reward for killing the two of them.
Of course, their lines had become entangled, and and they had ended up clutching the window sill and each other,and franticly trying to scuttle into the room. Several of them had fallen to their deaths on the hard ground four stories bellow. Serves the fools right, to.
What's more, the crowd had been pushed back, and those anxiously squirming had been knocked back, leaving only perhaps a score remaining inside to face them.
It was ever the fate of great skaven captains to be let down by the incompetence of underlings, he thought philosophically. Not even the most brilliant of plans could survive being executed by witless cretins. It was starting to look like his entire command consisted of those. They could not even kill an old, feeble manling and his breeder, even with superior numbers and the element of surprise.
Personally, he suspected treachery. No doubt one of his more cunning enemies or rivals (given the vast range of his talents and clear genius, it was no surprise that he had many) had sent a bunch of ill-trained louts in order to discredit him.
He considered lending a hand himself, and steeled himself to face his foe. It was simple excitement that made his tail twitch and his musk glands swell as the breeder flicked an axe and painted the wall red. He knew he was the match for both of them, but let clawleader San tackle them, as he wanted to study their style to best advantage. It certainly wasn't cowardice that made him slink away into the night. It was commendable caution, and the knowledge that this was not the time to fight. That would be later, like say, when the two of them were sleeping.

The skaven pull back, up against the walls of the room,waiting for another opening. There are a few terrified squeaks behind the score already in the room, but they don't concern you for now.

Rand Al'Thor, Tavi
Arasis is less willing to listen to reason then Tavi. He picks up his sword, and looks to the west. He doesn't even ask Tavi's permission before he starts walking, which is a bad sign.
Varg takes this moment to return with Druss.

[Corvond]

Lord Angmar
"Thou'st has your prize. Now pay what is owed." Demands the Lord of the Nine, turning to stare at Ishmael, his wraiths surrounding him so they all faced him.

"Render unto my master what was promised, or I shall drag it from you." The balance of power has shifted, and not for the better. Ishmael, here, is very much the wraiths prey, and Angmar wants to make him know it.

Gaborn
He wanders the corridors, staring into the hearts of those he meets. But he doesn't choose anyone. Not yet.

[Colesign]

Tavi

{Nicely done, Cracklord}

Tavi strains, then slumps, feet touching the ground again.

"Araris." He says finally. "Araris!!!!!"

He catches up to him.

"Crows take me, Rand's right. We need to figure out where Isana is and how to rescue her before we can do it! Listen to me!"

[Cracklord]

Tavi
For a moment, you think he's going to hit you. Then he stops, and sighs. "Crows take it, Tavi." He says, his scowl twisting the cowards brand into new and disturbing patterns. "We need to act. You've always believed in moving quickly, you know if we sit around we'll lose our chance."
Then he gets himself under control. "My apologies, lord." He says, overly formal. That might be an even worse sign.

Lord Angmar
"Be patient. We need to recover his trinket first. Dol Gulgar would be the place, but that's a world away." The Dominator replies. He has had demons pay him homage, burned entire countries and enslaved generations, even now he shows no fear. Maybe he is too arrogant to realize the threat you pose to him.
"But she will do, and she will rouse Lews Therin. He never could resist a woman in distress."

[industrious]

Rand Al'Thor

"And we will. But at this moment, we are not at all equipped for this."

Rand has studied prophecies extensively; searching them, combing them for meaning and advice. In some cases, he was able to use them to his advantage.

"The Witch-King can be slain by no man. Your...enemy should qualify, as would any who is not a man...and they will need a suitable weapon."

The blade at Rand's side floats beside him.

"Ideally, we'd do this at high noon. If we can find some way to track her, then we can wait. Otherwise..."

[Cracklord]

Rand
Min catches up, red faced and looking a little irritated. you had abandoned her without explanation with an elderly soldier, and she had worried. She would have worried more if she had known, however, so not to worry.
Rand read the book of Glorfindel, an unknown writer, which brought him here in the first place. He is to have two companions at the final battle, the White Rose, and the Earth King.
Lews Therin remembers Erden Geboran, a rather short, plain looking, humble man who had radiated peace and serenity, been as close to pacifistic as humanly possible while still defending himself and his subjects, and had somehow drawn power from those under his protection. His followers had gone on to begin the way of the leaf, which he would have approved of, in his way. He had never liked fighting, although he was very good at it.
After Lews Therin had died, he had gone underground to fight reavers (Rand had never seen a reaver, and suspected they had died long ago), and remained while his enemies united against him. Then he had returned, and eventually passed away. The histories said he had died on the battlefield, with no wound on him. It was a popular legend that he had died of a broken heart, which Lews believed. It was a terrible burden he bore, one that would eventually break anyone.
The White Rose was more difficult to pinpoint. All you can recall is a flash of golden hair.

Varg grunts. The sword looks somewhat comical to him, barely more then a long knife. Then he reaches out a paw to accept it, doing his best to look honored, and failing. His twitching ears is a giveaway.

Kitiara
You turn to stare at your council of war, then stop. You glance again, then stop again. There is a figure in the back row who you don't recognize.
Your leaders are your two commanders, and the three representatives from the orders of the Knights of Neraka.
Your majordomo, Barakis, stands beside him, crisp and handsome, not even seeming to see the man standing beside him. The three knights stand in front, Balon the minotaur snorts and tosses his horns, baring sharp, carnivorous teeth and flexing his mighty arms, dressed in nothing but a leather harness and kilt, and Gakhan stands beside him, a draconian and one o the most competent soldiers you've ever met.
And none of them seem alert to his presence.
He's got a scarred, pocked face, a wispy blond beard and deepset eyes, with a scowl. He's hooded, and an enormous sword is slung over his shoulder. His arms are folded, and he's watching silently.

[InyutheBeatIs]

Wander

The sight of the forcibles had left Wander confused. The sudden burden of continuing the presence of life in the future had left him with a lot to think about. Suddenly, his quest was starting to become questionable...but then there was the fact that this whole thing could just be some sick and twisted game, played between nigh-almighty beings for their own amusement.

However, in either case, Wander's hand was still incredibly maimed and in need of a healer. It was this thought that caused Wander to look up, only to notice that Gaborn and Iome has since dissappeared. However, there was a palace in the distance; civilization was near, along with the healers doubtlessly inside.

Thus, Wander closed the bag again, and tied it to the saddle on Agro's back. He then manages to swing up onto Agro, looking at Morianne and Lan. He nods his head to both of them, sitting up in the saddle, causing Agro to start walking towards the palace.

[AnimeKid]

Link

Seeing as his friend does not come back Link runs full speed into the cave.

Lazlo

When he finishes he looks up and sees that the group has moved away and searches them out. When he finds them he notices a missing member and the downcast faces of the group. "Has something happened? Where is Ms. Isanna?"

[nanobot_swarm]

Nekron
He uses his powers to start reshaping the interior of the glacier, separating the group into a maze of passages, many where his sub-human servants await in ambush. He also captured the little fairy the one man had, and begins to interrogate it about the identities of those who dared enter his domain. If any still remain outside, the storm becomes even worse, basically forcing them inside.

The Beast
On the side of the fortress, a doorway opens with two slayers awaiting. They escort him through the twisted, alien labyrinth that is the interior of the Black Fortress, to the clawed dome where the beast awaits in avoid, obscured by shadows. It says nothing, but waits for the man to speak his words.

[doliest]

Kitaria
Her eyes dart to the man, "And you would be?" Her hand on her sword-if her men actually didn't notice him, then...she didn't want to start a fight, but she also didn't want to be in a position where she couldn't shield herself if nessecary.

[Colesign]

Tavi

"Get a sword for Kitai, too." Tavi adds. "The minute we've got a hint of where she is, we'll be off, Araris. I swear by the Great Furies. We'll find that Witch-King and fufill his prophecies once and for all, and rescue Isana. I swear."

Tavi raises a hand in the approximate direction where the Witch-King went, and tries to commune with the furies.

The furies of the land, of the air, of the flowing rivers, furies as minor as mice in the field...and as great in number.

Tavi communes with them to see if there's any sign of the Witch King's passing, of the path he trod, an imprint left by the cold fear he emanates.

[darkblade]

Holo

Could Richard possibly be affliated with the Wraith? It wouldn't be too surprising all things considered. "There also was a creature of Darkness in the Town. Death and decay follow in it's unnatural cloaked wake. Was it with the caravan?"

***

Lawrence

"Stitch him up then." Lawrence sighs, before he met Holo his life was that of a simple merchant. He never got directly involved in the wars and stayed out of the magical affairs of the world. The last thing he ever expected to be doing was looking to cure a Guardian of mournblade while a nature spirit hunts down his stolen goods.

[industrious]

Rand

"I only have the one, I'm afraid. Forged by the One Power in the Second Age. It's the only one I've found."

Well, there was Callandor as well, but Rand wasn't going to touch it until the Last Battle. The Sword that Was Not a Sword was too useful to be used here.

[Executor]

Achilles

The silence of the dark, stiflingly warm top chamber of the siege tower was unsettling to mighty Achilles. He was used to going into battle with the clatter of spear shafts against shields, the tramping of marching feet, the braying of horns and warcries tearing from a thousand throats. This silence, this maddening silence, was, like the calm before a storm, somehow worse than the thought of what lay ahead. Even the great Slayer of Men still felt the butterflies in his stomach before a battle. Never in all of this campaigns had he met a warrior to match him, yet in this unknown world, upon the walls of his mighty fortress, perhaps that one would be waiting.

Achilles stretched, testing the flexibility of his new, unfamiliar armour. 'Mail' the quartermasters of the little army had called it, providing each Myrmidon with a hauberk of it and a sort of padded jacket called a gambeson to wear underneath it. The mail appeared to be made of interlocking metal rings, forming a shirt, which apparently provided great protection. Achilles did not think very much of the stuff, and still wore his cuirass over his chest and his great crested helmet upon his head.

"Myrmidons" Achilles said, looking left and right to the ten Greeks around him at the top of this siege tower. Each man slammed his spear butt against the wooden floor as he said their name.

"My brothers, we have fought together hundreds of times, and beat thousands of foes. I know you are the best damned men in this entire army. Zeus has given us this day for our glory. You will advance or fall where you stand facing the enemy. To those who will fall, I say, you will not die but step into immortality. Your mothers will not lament your fate but will be proud to have born such sons. Your names will be revered forever. On many a hard fought field of battle, wou have overcome the enemy. With Zeus’ help, we shall achieve victory once more" Achilles words, though eloquent, were simple and direct. As he concluded his speech, there was anothed thumping as spear butts slammed on the floor again.

"Ten seconds!" came a call from the archers on the top of the tower. Now shields were taken up, and helmets pulled down over heads. Achilles' heart beat like a furious drum, his blue eyes wide and wild as he waited for the tower's bridge to lower. All around him, the men breathed hard, their knuckles white upon the shafts of spears.

"Five seconds... NOW!" came the archer's cry, and the bridge was released. It clattered down onto the battlements with a great crash, and Achilles saw the massed Alagaesian troops standing there, ready to stop them.

"Volley!" Achilles roared, and with the other men in his tower, cast his spear towards the packed ranks of Alagaesians. Cries of pain erupted from the mass of men as razor bronze points pierced throats, faces and chests.

Swift as a wolf after its prey, Achilles swept his sword from its sheath and dashed across the bridge. With a leap, he was down amongst the Alagaeasians, as was as a lion amongst lambs. With a great downward slash, he hewed the first man to face him from shoulder to the centre of his body. A second Alagaesian's throat was hacked out, a third was pushed off the wall to his death by a shove of the shield. By cruelty and violence, by the edge and points of swords and the brims and faces of shields, and knees and elbows and headbutts, the Myrmidons carved a path along the walls, and the stones soon grew slippery with the flowing of Alagaesian blood.

King Arthur

"Why did we allow them to take us?" fiery Sir Gawain asked. His King sat in thought, eyes closed, his back against the cold wall of their tiny cell. Arthur's cell had Lancelot, Gawain and Bors in it, the other knights were in other parts of the dungeon. All of them had been stripped of armour and weapons, left only in their tunics and trousers. Arthur was glad he discarded his dragon surcoat on the ship before the town guards could see it. He had a feeling it would only have made things worse. What he was not glad about was that Excalibur was taken by that piggish Sir Amory. The vile little man did not deserve to even look upon that holy blade, much less touch it.

"Why?" Gawain persisted.

"To save your lives, Gawain" Arthur answered, without opening his eyes.

"Better to die with honour than to live with the shame of capture" Gawain snapped, punching the wall fruitlessly as he paced from one end of the cell to another.

"Better to live to fight again another day and win back our honour than to die with our task unfulfilled" Bors commented quietly, rubbing his nose with a knuckle.

"Sit down, Gawain, before I make you sit down." Lancelot said irritably as he sat cross-legged and stared hard at the door, as if wondering how hard he would have to hit it to make it break loose.

"Be calm, my knights. I have a feeling that all shall be revealed soon." Arthur said finally. As if on cue, there was the sound of the door's iron lock sliding open.

[Corvond]

Gaborn Val Orden
The man who opens the door is young, with ancient eyes and a tired look about him. His shoulders are square, and his clothes are well made but careworn and travel-stained, as though he had just come a long way, over rugged country.

The first impression he gives is kindness. He seems the sort of man who cares for others and helps where he may. He is leaning on a staff of oak, and behind him is a beautiful, exotic woman with nut brown skin and long black hair. She is dressed much the same way as he is, but it is clear by her bearing if nothing else that she is of noble blood.

"I do suggest you come with me." He says softly. "The guards will not sleep forever."

Jaime Lannister, Tywin Lannister
Jaime takes them deeper into the palace, up several flights of stairs and down winding corridors, until at last they stop. The door is gilded.
Jaime knocks twice, then opens the door to let them in.

Tywin is dressed in the same manner as his son, and you guess that Jaime dresses like that out of a need to emulate him. He's in his fifties, but fitter then a man that age has any right to be, with a stomach as flat as a board and corded muscle on his arms. He's bald, when his hair had started to recede he'd shaved it all off, along with his lip and chin. He was not a man who believed in half measures.

He'd kept his side whiskers however, a wiry thicket of spun gold and iron grey.He had the lined face of a perpetual frowner, and green eyes that stared at them with the intensity of a fireball. Around his neck he wears his chain of office, made of gold hands clasping each other. He does not wear a sword.

His desk is clear, and he is writing what looks like a letter. The only decoration is a picture hanging behind the desk, of a beautiful, young blond woman. You have known him for two seconds and you can already tell that's out of character for the man.

He stops writing, scatters some sand over it to dry it, then stares at the two of them levelly. His gaze is not a comfortable place to be.

"These are the two I told you about father." Jaime says, stepping forward.

"I see."

Jaime filled the silence, trying to gather a reaction. "I thought that you might wish to..."

"Do you not have duties you need to attend to, Ser Jaime?"

"...Yes father." He bows slightly then walks out, leaving the two of you alone with the old hungry lion. That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne... but somewhere along the way, he had become the Smiling Knight instead.

Tyrion Lannister
Bronn spits. "I know his kind. His entire life is for the sake of one thing. 'Achilles, the greatest warrior ever'." He says, doing a horribly mangled impression of the Greek's accent. "And that's all that matters to him. I've known a few knights like that. They're a bitch to work with. If it comes to it, he'll sacrifice every one of his men on the alter of 'Achilles, the greatest warrior ever.' He'll even throw away his own life, if he thinks a poet is watching and he believes he can get a saga out of it."

"I plan to die in bed, myself." Tyrion replied. "The older the better. But if he wants that, then his future will be shorter then I am. So let him have a glorious stand on top the gate, let him get it open and let us in, and hopefully that mercenary will put it in those books he always carries around."

Lord Angmar
"And so we draw him to a place of our choosing." The wraith says, catching on despite himself. It was a simple plan, but one that would probably work. "And then?"

Borenson
The knight lets Link lead. It's clear he's better qualified for that.

[doliest]

Soth
Soth smiles, a dark grin on his face as lifts his hand into the air.

His Nightmare, Binky, rips out of the ground, flames surrounding it as it bows down and lets Soth hop onto it's back.

A deafening roar rips through the air as the ghostly elven women that form Soth's torment surround him, a bloodlust clear on their dead lips.

Skeletal figures surround him, his knights bound with their lord, who in live they had followed unquestioningly, and so they did the same in death.

A small force, but a more terrible one was rarely seen, likely never seen by the force on the other side of that wall.

This was all Soth needed to bring Hell to Earth. And he sits on that Nightmare with a dark grin.

[Cracklord]

Lord Angmar
"Then I end our never-ending battle, and the shadow triumphs at last." His eyes sparkle with an almost sexual ecstasy as he says that. He was a philosopher on the nature of the wheel before he went mad, and he is convinced he is a part of the chain. Sometimes he seems to think he is the Dark One himself, in his less lucid moments.

Achilles
With a long, drawn out, creaking groan, the top of the tower opens beside the gate. You job is to wrest control of the gatehouse, and open it, allowing the barbarians to pour in. The Black Company are taking their own way in, but it will all be for nothing if you can't take the wall.

Holo
The reply comes in a series of impressions. They did see them, and fled them, but they were at no point near the wagon. The wolves had fled them as best they could.

Lawrence, Auron
(About two weeks.)
The priest stitches the wound closed, and places a foul smelling poultice on it. Nobody has recognized you yet, but you expect it would be better not to push your luck.

Kitaria
"Just a figment of your imagination." Durzo Blint replies, startling those next to him. You catch a flicker in the corner of your eye, and almost involuntarily they slide away. When you look again, moments later, he is gone.

The Beast
The figure makes his way towards you. He bows, and gives you a smile. "I am her on behalf of the new order." He says. "We have seen your power, and we are impressed."

Jaime Lannister
You leave to find another member of your select brotherhood awaiting you. Meryn Trant, his droopy eyes narrowed, his cloak hanging limply and his red beard a wild, bristly thing, like the underside of a brush.
Over the history of D'Hara, many famous and legendary knights have joined its ranks, including members of the Great Houses. The Kingsguard of Lord Darken Rahl was particularly famed for its mighty warriors, and the current roster is generally held to be inferior, the result of politial appointments made to appease other houses rather than being selected for valour and skill at arms.
That had been his fathers idea. He hadn't wanted another Rahl on the throne, but he had needed one, so he did all he could to cement Richard's rule. Of course, if he hadn't you'd never kept your appointment.
"Lord Rahl wants to see you."

Soth
Skeletal chariots, knights and the ghostly figures of banshee's rank up behind you, and you get to the point, an unstoppable juggernaut preparing to smash through all opposition.

[doliest]

Kitaria
She snarls-ghosts and gods she was used to, but they at least had the decency to ask something of her-this was nothing but annoyance. She turns to her men, "I need one of you to take a few men and retrieve the escaped prisoners. Any takers?"

[Cracklord]

Kitiara
As expected, there is a few. It's no secret how important he is to you. Barakis, anxious to retain your favor, steps forward first. "If you can spare me, I can organize a search. They shouldn't be too difficult to track."
The other to step forward is Hoarst, the most able of your thorn knights. The man was a frightening character, somewhat like your half-brother in his calm, emotionless detachment to the world, but taken to extremes, to the point that he was utterly emotionless as he perpetrated mass murder.
He cared for gems, and that was all. He was expensive, but his magics were invaluable, and there weren't many wizards so easy to control.
"I can have him back for you in two days, if you wish it." He said, acting as though you were two equals discussing the weather.

[doliest]

Kitaria
Hm. Hoarst or Barakis? It was a rather quick decision, based on the usefulness of the two and their respective abilities, "Hoarst, gather a small force and track both Tanis and the Kender down, and no murders. I want them alive, Hoarst. The rest of you, get your troops ready- we need to begin carving a swarth of destruction through the Empire. The better we do, the more land and wealth you all retire to-and if we fail, all our heads are on the chopping block come the Varden's victory."

[darkblade]

Holo

So it was just a fortunate coincidence then. "I intend to hunt the men heading South. Would you accept the honour of joining the wise wolf for this hunt?"

***

Lawrence

Lawrence takes Auron back to the cart, leaving the church a small token donation from the gold still in his pockets. With that he rides out to the Inn he stayed with Holo. Borrowing Auron's sword (which he could never use effectively but the Inn Keep doesn't know that) he heads in and looks for the man who poisoned him.

***

Zasamal

Zasamal weaves the energy to close the gap in space between the other side of the wall and Soth's forces. Within minutes they should be placed on the otherside ready to hunt.

"Roran, prepare the rest of the men. Soth shall break the gates soon."

[Cracklord]

Kitiara
"As you will." He replies, and vanishes with a small pop. His speciality was teleportation, and it startled you every time he did it. You even warned him to only do it far out of your reach to make sure you don't accidently gut him.
Barakis grumbles, folds his arms, and doesn't say anything.

Lawrence
The inn has been sold to new management. Apparently, the sale was hurried, and at a fifth of what they could have got from it had they drawn it out.

Zasamal
Roran nods. "I gave the men orders to attack while we create a distraction." He says, and takes the hammer in both hands. "I'll hunt the mages, while he creates chaos." A terrible glint comes into his eye, and the elder realizes something that should have occurred to him earlier. He's berserk, frothing mad. It's what makes him so dangerous in a fight.

Holo
They agree, and you are made the new alpha of the pack. If only humans were so sensible and easy to deal with.